If I Let You Go
by Rocket Into Highness
Summary: Will it ever work out between Eragon and Arya? Will Murtagh be able to change his True Name? Eragon resumes his journey as a Rider, with many obstacles along the way. General, but mainly ExA fic. CURRENTLY ON HIATUS-
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters. Its CP's.

_This story is set just after Brisingr. About Arya and Eragon. Please Read and Review. Thanks! _

_Feb 2012 Author's Note: This is my second Fanfic (my first one ever was called 'Superhuman' but I deleted it because it was absolutely horrendous *shudders at the countless grammar mistakes*). This fic is also fairly mediocre for my standards, but I hope to edit the story sometime after I finish 'Fate Will Find A Way'._

_Please note that originally this story had up to 21 chapters. But I decided to edit Chapter 8, and delete chapter 9 and onwards because I was quite unhappy with the way the story had gone, and I had temporarily lost my muse. So I edited Chapter 8, and the subsequent chapters that followed are now upto date and more suited to my liking. I started this story about 2 years ago, so I also hope to edit chapters 1-7 sometime (so please at the meanwhile, bear with the lack of descriptions and awkward sentences) as I am unhappy with my writing within these chapters. But anyway, please do read ahead and leave a review... if you want. (; Oh yes, and my total reviews are also the combination from the 21 chapters I previously had. I thought the reviews would be deleted along with the chapters I deleted, but apparently not. Anyway, I just wanted to point that out... in case you were curious or anything. ^_^ _

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**Chapter 1: His Temporary Paradise.**

_I will be returning soon. Farewell for now. _Saphira flew upward, becoming no more than a dot as she disappeared, gone in the vast blue sky.

_Don't get into trouble. _Eragon warned sternly.

In response Saphira chuckled, _do not be too worried Eragon. I will be fine. _You_shouldn't get into trouble!_

Saphira knew that her rider had a habit of getting tangled into mischief. If she had her way, she would keep her Rider with her at all times. But, at times like these, she needed to hunt and concentrate on her prey instead of worrying about him. She hoped that this time, he could handle himself. They had both mourned for their mentors, but the raw and profound grief still paralyzed them. They were alone.

Saphira shook her head as she spotted a deer. Switching to hunt mode, she descended.

**-x-**

Eragon decided to take a stroll down a shady path, quite far from the Varden tents. He had told Blodhgarm where he was going and that he wanted to be alone. He complied and Eragon headed his own way. One of the main reasons he wanted to be alone was that he needed to be away from the stench of rotten air and blood. It reminded him too much of the recent death of his mentors.

Hurriedly he kept on walking. Several minutes had passed, and Eragon suddenly halted, his breath caught. A glorious waterfall laid before him. At that moment, his worries were soon forgotten. The gushing waters that cascaded raucously eradicated the anxiety he held.

It was sunset but the water looked crystal clear with a tinge of orange-ish red on the surface. The place looked like a paradise. Steam rose from the lake; the fragrance of natural, fresh air filling Eragon's senses. The water was so serene, so gentle, he was unable to resist and he began to remove his clothing. He carefully placed Brisingr aside, but kept it close in case of any sudden or unexpected attack.

Carefully he dipped in his toes- checking if the temperature was to his own liking. The water was more than warm; it felt like there were some added mixture of relaxation and serenity. Eagerness got the better of him and he quickly jumped in the water. It consumed him instantly, the warm and placidness of the water taking over. Beginning to relax, Eragon swam underneath the waterfall, letting the battering waterfalls massage his tension-filled back and broad shoulders. Momentarily he closed his eyes and sighed. He absorbed the peaceful atmosphere.

The tranquillity almost vanished when Eragon thought about what had happened a few days ago. The loss of his mentors caused him unbearable grief. It was an unfathomable sorrow that struck right to his very core. It threatened to crush his defences. If not for Saphira, Arya and Nasuada's support, he would be lost in the ocean of anguish. Glaedr had died physically, but Oromis hadn't been so fortunate. No more would he be able to ask his master for advice. But Glaedr had survived mentally as he gave his Eldunari to Eragon and Saphira when they had last visited Ellesmera. His master Oromis, had died bravely and proudly; he fought valiantly and courageously. It was suppose to be a fair match but surprisingly Galbatorix took over Murtagh's body and fought Oromis there and then. Then after he had mocked and taunted the elven rider, Galbatorix slayed him; slicing his back and wounding him severely.

_Why did that have to happen? I feel more alone than ever. I am the only Dragon rider left to make a stand against Galbatorix and the Empire. Murtagh is being controlled and has no choice, but he still a threat to the Varden and Alagaesia, _Eragon contemplated, his thoughts swimming in and out of the forefront of his mind.

The legendary dragon riders were nearly extinct. There is one last egg and one female dragon left- Saphira. Shruikan and Thorn are both males but owned by the wrong riders. Thorn was a choice but there was no hope for Shruikan and Saphira mating. The last egg of course is still another hope. _I hope it's a male and will hatch for someone I can trust. Someone in the Varden possibly. _Eragon let his mind stir as he half floated in the water.

But all too soon, Eragon's thoughts returned to Oromis and Glaedr. They had been close to him and Saphira. Watching them die through his Master's eyes and hearing their agonized cries echo through their minds made the whole experience excruciating. He felt a stab of anguish and grief for the lost rider and dragon. Although Glaedr's eldunari was safely hidden away, Eragon felt pitiful for the golden dragon; having to still live without your rider must be an unbearable feeling.

Eragon couldn't imagine his life without Saphira. He'd be mentally troubled and he probably would not be able to sleep or converse with anyone; with a few exceptions like Nasuada, Roran and especially _Arya_. As soon as Eragon thought of Arya he could not easily let go the thought of her. It had been a while since their time completely alone together. When they were at Eastcroft, Eragon enjoyed being with her and learnt more about her such as her relationship with Faolin and when she had told him that he was her mate, Eragon could not help resist a slight sense of jealousy.

And bravely Eragon had also asked if she loved him or not. Unfortunately she could not answer the question directly, but she did tell him how much he meant to her. During that time, Eragon saw a different, softer side of Arya. Usually she was impassive, blank and expressionless, but at that time, Eragon almost saw her true personality... her _soul. _

Arya had tears in her eyes explaining the ambush and her grief for her Elven companions whom she travelled with for seventy years in the Varden whilst carrying Saphira. To lose a loved one was an indescribable feeling. Sorrow and anguish would consume and torment every essence of your soul, making you paralyzed of all senses. Rage fired within Eragon as he remembered the scars Arya was burdened with when he first laid eyes on her; the affliction and the insufferable pain the Durza must have put her through was enough to make Eragon summon the wretched Shade just to kill him again.

Sensing his thoughts had become murderous and dark, Eragon sank deeper, indulging himself in the water, hoping to drown his sinister thoughts as well. He swam to the other side of the lake, lifting both of his arms up to rest against a small crevice. Eragon was oblivious of the time, but then his eyes shot open when he heard soft footsteps. Quickly he swam behind the waterfall; intending to hide.

The cascading waterfalls were thick, Eragon had trouble looking through but he could make out that the figure was tall and slender; it was definitely a female. Her head and shoulders were obscured by the trees, but Eragon could see she wore no armour.

As she came into the clearing, Eragon observed her face and thanks to his Elven senses, he could see more closely. She had delicate pointy ears... slanted emerald green eyes... _Arya! _Eragon's mind raced. Panic overcame his senses.

Trying to calm down, he carefully examined her. Her reaction to the place was the same as Eragon's. She was absolutely captivated by her surroundings. Her eyes took in every detail. Eragon blinked in surprise when Arya actually smiled, her face was relaxed and calm. _I guess this place can affect people in more ways possible. _Eragon thought.

"Barzul!" He swore as he saw Arya turn towards his direction. Eragon kept his mouth shut but immediately gawped open again, and his eyes widened when Arya removed her clothes. _All of it. _The green elven dress neatly laid at her feet, she tossed her hair band away, and she carefully put her bow, arrows and sword aside.

Like a Goddess, Arya gracefully entered the lake, taking a few more steps until she disappeared deeper into the water. A few seconds later bubbles came out of the surface, followed by her head, her ears now fully visible, her wet midnight black hair tumbled down to her shoulders and strands of it were tucked behind her delicate pointed ears.

Eragon on the other side was too enthralled. He was frozen to the spot, whenever he was around Arya, his heartbeat increased instantaneously, but this time, she was closer than ever and she was _naked_.

This made Eragon's heart leap, his heart hammered as if it was trying to batter its way out of his fragile chest. He didn't know what to do, or what to say. Knowing Arya, Eragon thought that the best method was to escape quietly. If she ever found out he had been observing her, she would probably direct a lightning bolt at him. But all rational excuses eluded him as he watched her. She was so beautiful. Hypnotised by her presence, he forgot everything. Unaware of his actions, Eragon walked over to her, past the flowing waterfalls. Just a touch. A touch wouldn't hurt...

Arya was turned away from him, her hands hovering the surface of the water, softly making small waves with her fingers. The surface was orange-ish red but the water was as clear as daylight. Eragon's eyes flickered downwards, and he felt his ears turn bright red and his cheeks burned hotter.

He lifted his hand as if to tap Arya on the shoulder but reality came crashing down. _What am I doing? I would be caught dead if Arya saw me here! With her! Naked! In the lake! _Arya's ears perked up suddenly aware of someone's presence behind her. Swiftly she turned around to find no one there. She stood still, and she scanned her surroundings.

Meanwhile underneath the water Eragon was trying to hold his breath until Arya looked away, if he swam, it he would reveal himself. Fortunately for Eragon, the water was darker and not as clear where Arya was, so she can't see him if she looked down.

Eragon looked up, his visions blurred but he could see Arya was wandering around the water. Slowly Eragon moved out of the way trying not to float to the surface. _Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine... _Eragon's lungs were about to burst. He would've tried intoning a spell, but that would mean going upto the surface, and that was the last place he would want to be at the moment.

Arya advanced another step; Eragon couldn't take it any longer. He felt his ribcage squeezing his lungs; two more seconds and he would surely run out of air.

Moments passed and suddenly Eragon rose to the surface, his mouth open sucking in all the air his lungs could manage. Then his visions cleared and nervously he pushed his hair to the side. He found himself face to face with a very surprised... then an angry _Arya_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Breakaway.**

_*Humming a tune*..._

_^Randomness Rules.^ Awesome!_

_Hehe XD._

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Arya's eyes widened with shock, "Eragon!" she blurted out. Eragon noticed her voice sounded more surprised than it was an accusation. Quickly she lowered her gaze and a gleam appeared in her eyes which made Eragon's heart jerk. But the moment was lost and she instantly turned away.

"I- I can explain!" He stammered, but Arya was already making her way out of the lake. She hoisted herself out and put on her clothes quickly, muttering incoherent and unwise elven words that Eragon could not comprehend.

Eragon could not tear his intense gaze away from Arya. Her body. Her fine figure...

_What am I thinking?! _"Arya!" Eragon called out, cursing himself for being so foolish. Hastily he climbed out of the lake, fumbling to put his clothes on.

**Arya's POV.**

_Barzul! _Arya's body stiffened. _He had been there the whole time?! THE WHOLE TIME! _She silently swore as she grabbed her sword and ignored Eragon's alarmed calls. Her heart thudded loudly, its intense pounding blocked out her hearing.

_Why didn't I notice him straight away? How long had he been there?! _Arya's mind was ringing with incessant questions. She headed for her tent. Frustrated, she crashed down into a seat. Her chest rose up and down and her breathing became ragged.

She noticed her hair was still dripping wet and her face flushed. With great difficulty, she tried to get rid of the thoughts of what had just happened. _It never happened, it never happened, it never happened..._ she chanted in her head. But after the fifth line, she knew she could not. The memory was branded in her mind.

Hazily she got up and used magic to dry her hair. She changed into her armour and leggings making herself look presentable. Quickly, she grabbed her bag which contained her personal belongings. She muttered a spell to get rid of her scent and when she was content, she headed for Nasuada's tent.

It did not take a long time and Arya found the Varden's leader in her tent. She was bent over her simple-adorned wooden desk which was mounted with endless piles of paperwork. Arya, after what had just happened, could not help resist an amused smile. Nasuada looked absolutely drained, her forehead crinkled with a frown as she read the paperwork. Arya would not want to be in her position right now, but then again, _her_ condition was no better.

"Lady Nasuada." Arya greeted. Nasuada looked up, her face brightened as she heard the elf princess' melodical voice.

"Ah, Arya." She said giving her a tired smile. Nasuada sighed as she sat up straight. There were tufts of hair sticking out and she casually tucked them behind her ear.

"Not working too hard now, are we?" Arya asked as she slowly made her way to Nasuada's desk.

Nasuada chuckled and waved her hand, "Not to worry. I've nearly got them all done."

Arya looked at the clustered desk then back to Nasuada, "I can see that." They shared a small laugh but then Arya's face became serious as she remembered what she went to see her for.

Nasuada noticed her slight change of mood and asked, "Is there something wrong, Arya?"

Arya hesitated. But then her determination drove her on, she cleared her voice and asked as nonchalantly as she could, "Could you possibly set me on a mission?"

Nasuada blinked in surprise then her expression returned to normal. "May I ask why?" Arya paced around the room, her bag on her shoulder, which Nasuada just noticed and raised her eyebrow as if to ask her.

"It's just that..." Arya bit her lip wondering if she should tell the truth. _I want to get away from Eragon, _she answered in her head.

"I just want to get my mind off a few things," Arya said quietly, "And going on a mission seems like a good idea."

Nasuada sat back, which made her look small as the seat engulfed her size. Arya noticed that she was deep in thought. There was an awkward silence and Arya maintained her head up high. The two women had the atmosphere of superiority around them.

"Very well." Nasuada spoke, breaking the huge tension that had built up between them, "I will set you on a mission." Arya's face lit up in triumph as she heard her words.

"But..." Nasuada added her voice low and calm, "It's a dangerous mission. But with the exception of Eragon and Saphira, I can't trust anyone in the Varden to do this almost impossible task."

"What is it?" Arya's face darkened, but she kept her posture.

"After thinking about this a lot... I've decided to set you on a mission to..." Nasuada paused and darted a quick look at Arya, "I've decided to set you on a mission to locate the third egg."

Arya's face flickered with surprise then quickly hid it, her face now expressionless.

"It would be my honour." Arya bowed slightly.

Nasuada got up from her seat and unexpectedly hugged the Elven princess. "There's no need to bow, Arya. You and I have been close friends for so long..."

Arya gave her a warm smile as they broke apart, "Yes. I should get going then."

"Dark is fast approaching. Why don't you set off early tomorrow?" Nasuada asked worriedly as she casted a look around her tent. The tent was orange-ish yellow caused by the lighting outside. The sun was slowly setting, but Arya would not be swayed with her decision.

"No, I'll go now. Earlier the better." She said and was about to leave when Nasuada touched her shoulder gently.

"I should tell you; this mission will keep you away from the Varden for quite long time. Maybe a month or so. Tracking the egg can be arduous work." She warned, her voice low.

Arya stopped on her tracks and without glancing back she softly said, "Maybe that's what I just need." Nasuada casted a confused look which Arya didn't see, so she didn't pester her on.

Nasuada released a big, long sigh as she looked up at her ceiling. She recalled what had just happened. _Did Arya say what I thought she said? "Maybe that's what I just needed?" _Puzzled, she decided she would ask Eragon later. Shrugging off her thoughts she continued through her tedious paperwork.

**Arya's POV**

Arya ran like the wind across the open expanse, and the Varden soldiers wondered if she was actually running away from the camps. Full of energy, Arya maintained her speed until she stopped for a rest. She had reached the outskirts of the Hadarac Desert. Carefully she dropped her bag and looked around.

"_Risa!"_ She summoned water from the soil and transferred it to her drinking bottle.

Finding a soft spot on the ground, she sat down. _Was I right to go on this mission? It was suppose to be Eragon's task to find the third dragon egg. _Arya thought. "Well Nasuada ordered me to." But she had asked for a mission; it was not given to her freely.

Sighing she rested her head gently and closed her eyes. Her chest rose up and down softly as she quietly thought of the fourth dragon. _Who will it hatch for? _She wondered.

There were a few possibilities; Nasuada, Roran, maybe even Orrin... or _her. No... That wouldn't happen. _But as she thought of it more and more, she realized she was a strong candidate to be the fourth rider.

Quickly her eyes shot open, if she was the fourth rider, it would bring Eragon closer to her. _Would that be a good thing? _Arya asked. _I mean the only thing that's mainly keeping me and Eragon apart is because of our positions. I'm an Elf princess and an Ambassador. Eragon is a Dragon Rider. So if I were a rider, that wouldn't be an excuse anymore. _

But Arya had rejected Eragon so many times, she was wondering if he still had feelings for her. _How about our long age gap? I'm a hundred years old and he's still young. But he's been turned into an elf; he has possibility of a long life ahead of him…_

Arya's mind drifted on to the recent encounter she had with Eragon. She remembered how she felt when she saw him; surprised, shocked, irritated… and something else she could not quite place. But she did remember that she _was _utterly infuriated at herself for not being aware of his presence in the first place. _His face… it was so angelic…so handsome…_ Arya shook her head, she shifted uneasily. _We're never meant to be… _Arya thought quietly, _Faolin, I need you… _

A slight breeze of wind caused Arya to snap back to reality, _mind on the mission, _she reminded herself as she abruptly erased all her other thoughts. She fixed her bow and arrows and kept her sword at her hip. In no time she was running again, her hair dancing wildly behind her.

During the day, she spotted Empire soldiers but kept well away. There was no need to cause any unnecessary attention. She had been an egg courtier for seventy years; it was easy for her to tell if there had been any dragon egg at areas. For the second time in the day, she stopped again. Her eyes flickered ahead of her. There were two footprints. Arya touched it. They were soft; still fresh.

There was a growling sound, or was it just her hearing? Swiftly, she took her bow and arrow. Arya pulled the string towards her right cheek, taking aim. Time slowly passed. _One minute... _Arya lowered her bow, she scanned her surroundings. There was no one around. _Was I just imagining it? _

There it was again! Arya whipped her head around, her ears sharp and her eyes observing the trees. She heard ravenous munching. Arya searched for the sound. Gradually it was getting louder and louder, Arya found it challenging to trace the sound.

Finally when she found it- what she saw shocked her. On the ground was a dead soldier, his armour ripped off and his head dangling from his neck, a couple of his veins still attached. Blood oozed from his neck and it slowly dripped to the floor. There were two bent down figures savagely tearing his limbs and flesh off. Arya felt something rising in her throat; she forced herself to look away from the repulsive sight.

Slowly she compelled herself to look again, her eyes searched the figures and she caught something shiny. Her heart skipped. She had found the third egg! The emerald oval shone brilliantly, illuminating the baby dragon inside.

The only trouble was how to obtain it… from _those things_. It would have been no trouble getting the egg, but Arya did not know what they were capable of and how dangerous they were.

Arya could not make out their appearance; but she saw that they were wearing black hoods that covered their faces and cloaks that hid their body. From the atmosphere, they radiated a scent that Arya was somehow familiar with. A Shade's scent.

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_CJ.x_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Uncontrollable Feelings.**

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**ERAGONS POV.**

After gathering his belongings, he set off after her. _Little one, is there something wrong? _Saphira interrupted Eragon's racing thoughts.

_I'll tell you later, Saphira. _Eragon replied, and severed their link. His target was to get to Arya who had suddenly disappeared.

"Elves and their speed," Eragon muttered. He too was an elf, but Arya was very light at her feet. Alarmed and panicked, Eragon looked around the tents. _Surely she'd be in her tent. _He thought.

But he was wrong, Eragon entered Arya's tent only to find no one there. The place looked quite cluttered, a few paperwork were messily casted aside and books everywhere. _Looks like she left on a hurry. _Eragon thought. _I must've really startled her..._

He sniffed and couldn't smell the usual crushed-pine scent. Stress was quickly consuming him, _what have I done? _Eragon was about to leave when he noticed a glittering object on the grassy ground. Curious, Eragon picked up.

It was a sterling necklace, Eragon examined the shinny necklace, the pattern was elvish and there were initials smoothly carved on the back. _A+F. _Immediately Eragon knew what they meant and who they belonged to. _Arya. _

The letters stood for Arya and Faolin. Despite his anxiety, he could not resist feeling a sense of ultimate jealousy; he had always tried to disregard it before, but no matter how hard he tried to subdue it, there was always a slight remnant of the uncomfortable ache in his heart.

He imagined Faolin and Arya together in each others arms; both serene, happy and _in love_. Arya's face- a bright beautiful image and her perfect lips curved into a flawless smile… _oh, what I would give to be with her_... Eragon thought pensively. He could never have what he desired the most. For her, he'd withstand all the hell just to hold her hand. For her, he'd do whatever she asked of him. For her, he'd willingly die.

_Arya… why do you reject me? _Eragon asked quietly.

It was the question that haunted him in his sleepless nights; the question that was slowly draining him, sucking all the happiness and love. All those warm feelings; replaced by depression and emotional agony.

Suddenly another question gathered in his mind; a question that made him profoundly rack his head for answers. Momentarily, he closed his eyes and whispered softly, "Arya, It burdens me with great sadness that you do not feel the same way I feel for you. _Should I let you go?_"

He let the words linger in the air before opening his eyes again then gradually Eragon continued his search. He did not know how long he had been looking for her; it felt like an hour or so. Finally he decided to see Nasuada. _Maybe she knows where Arya is. _

Flapping the tent open, Eragon entered gracefully, his feet softly patting against the ground. "Lady Nasuada." He bowed before his leigelord. Taken by surprise, Nasuada jumped from her seat as she heard Eragon's voice.

"Ah, Eragon." Nasuada replied softly. "You may rise." She said, trying to surpress the exhaustion that was blatantly plastered on her weary face.

Eragon looked up, his hair messy, but tidy in some way because it was pushed delicately to one side. Nasuada noticed that he looked uneasy. Concerned, she decided to press on the matter.

"So what seems to be the problem, Eragon?" She asked.

Eragon paused hesitantly, but then replied, "I was just wondering...just out of curiosity...if you know where Arya is...?" He tried to hide his worry but was unsuccessful. Nasuada felt his anxiety, then she took a deep breath and sat up.

"I had set her on a missi-"

"What?! On a mission?" Eragon blurted out.

Immediately, he felt embarrassed for his outburst. "My apologies." Eragon muttered, casting his eyes on the floor.

Nasuada looked at the young rider carefully.

"It's fine, Eragon. I now know your concerns for Arya." She explained making Eragon feel more uneasy. "What you would also like to know is that... I had set her on a mission to locate the third egg."

"What?!" For the second time, Eragon felt embarrassed. "Sorry, Lady Nasuada. I apologize... again."

Nasuada walked up to the rider, touching his shoulder gently. Surprised, Eragon looked at her.

"Eragon, tell me honestly; do you or do you not love Arya?" The question startled Eragon all he could do was gawp at his liegelord. Yes, that was the word; _gawp._

"Exc- excuse me?" Eragon stammered.

"As your liegelord, I would not want to pry into your business, but as a friend, my curiosity is as great as my concern. I know not of what lies between you and Arya, but... do you care for her?" Nasuada said slowly.

Eragon hesitated, but he considered Nasuada as a friend. He only hoped that she would not betray his privacy and impart the knowledge he was about to reveal her. "Yes... yes I do." His emotions embraced his answer and he knew deep in his heart that it was absolutely and utterly true.

"Do you love her then?"

Again, Eragon failed to answer straightaway, but he trusted Nasuada, so he answered candidly, "Yes, I do. I _love_ her."

There was a moment of apprehension for Eragon as Nasuada scrutinized him meticulously. Eragon tried to keep unruffled by fidgeting with his fingers or keeping his eyes glued to the ground- but neither worked. Even though his confidence was great, the subject had reduced it enough to make him feel uneasy. Talking about Arya only reminded him that she would never be his. That alone was enough to tear his heart. He didn't need to be constantly reminded that her feelings for him were nothing more than a friends. Anguish invaded him and he closed his eyes, wishing that Nasuada would stop interogatting him.

Sensing his distress and sudden distraught, Nasuada spoke, "Thank you for sharing this information with me Eragon. Now I know your concerns for Arya's well-being."

Eragon looked at her. He found himself gazing at Nasuada's face. She looked completely worn. Eragon felt ashamed for not noticing. He looked at her desk which was mounted with vast amount of paperwork. Eradicating his tormented emotions and guilty for disturbing her when she had so much to do, he spoke.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you. I should get going. Thank you for your time." Eragon made a move to leave, his voice, quiet and low.

"Eragon." She gave him an unexpected smile, "You may go after her if you wish."

Eagerness and interest showed in Eragon's face. "But," Nasuada warned, "she may not take your presence lightly."

Eragon looked at her quizzically.

"You'll find out soon." Nasuada told him, her tone slightly mischievous.

Eragon opened his mouth then closed it again. Dismissing him with a wave of her hand, Nasuada said, "I will send a messenger to tell you if I hear from her location, then you may follow her if you still want to."

"Thank you." Eragon bowed, smiling. He turned and left the tent.

**NASUADA'S POV.**

Nasuada continued through her endless piles of paperwork. Her mind was still onto the fact that Eragon came to talk to her. She could not forget how distressed the rider sounded; it was truly an uncomfortable conversation.

Slowly she sat back; letting the papers descend to the ground. Both of her elbows leant on each of the chair's armrest- her chin resting on her dark knuckles. She worked too much; now was the time to reflect on things that had happened recently. Her encounter with the elf princess and the rider was strange; Arya seemed to have begged to go away. Then right after that Eragon came barging through asking of her whereabouts. It seemed like he was chasing her.

Nasuada forgot to ask Eragon what had happened between them and what had caused Arya to leave so suddenly. She pressed the matter in her head. _I had been so busy recently; I didn't know what was going on._

_Eragon and Arya…_Nasuada thought. _I do not know if they can be together, but I would favour them. Surely if everyone knew; it would cause endless bickering. As I see it, they definetly should be together, even if it means it could be Eragon's weakness. It could also be his greatest strength..._

Shifting in her position, she stood up, wandering around the tent. She looked down and found a puddle on the floor. _Had it been raining inside? _She thought.

Suddenly the surface shimmered, and a face appeared. Surprised, Nasuada stared at it, and leant closer. It depicted of Arya's face.

"Lady Nasuada." Arya spoke; her voice a little distant, but Nasuada could still understand her clearly.

"Arya?" Nasuada asked gently, "Are you managing well on the mission?"

"I have located the egg. Two spies have found it and are trying to escort it to the nearest village, where they could contact Galbatorix or Murtagh. The village is small and not so far away. I believe it is called Carvahall."

Nasuada's eyes widened upon hearing the word Carvahall. "Eragon's village." She muttered quietly. "Well, have you got the egg yet?"

"Not yet. The spies who have retrieved it; they are something else. I have never come across them before..."

"Don't worry, you will find out soon."

Nasuada thought if she should tell her about Eragon. _Let it be a surprise, _she grinned.

Suddenly Arya interrupted her thoughts, "Well I should get going now, I need to rest. I will set up a camp tonight, and early tomorrow, I will try to retrieve the egg." Arya explained.

"Ok. I trust you on that decision. I wish you good luck and I hope you'll be returning to the Varden soon. Farewell for now." Nasuada smiled.

Immediately, Arya's face disappeared from the surface. Nasuada stood up, headed outside and called for a messenger.

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_CJ.x_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The F-L-Ight (Flight and Fight).**

_I updated as soon as I could, so here's the next chapter.. :) It's kinda short but...hope its good enough...  
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**ERAGON'S POV.**

Eragon came out of his tent and suddenly someone bumped into him. He glanced around, and found himself face to face with a scruffy young boy. He had a note in his hand. _He must be the messenger, _Eragon thought.

The messenger muttered apologies and bowed carefully. Eragon noticed that he was trembling; he did not know if it was because of the chilly weather or because he was in a presence of a rider.

Since he had been acknowledged as a Dragon Rider, Eragon felt that people seemed to feel intimidated around him. To be honest, he was still surprised at the fact that he could even be intimidating. The boy looked about fifteen years of age, the same age he had been when he first found Saphira. Truthfully, he still couldn't believe what had transpired in his life. One moment, he was a farmboy, the next, he became one of the Legendary Dragon Riders.

"I bring a message from Lady Nasuada, Shur'tugal. She wishes to see you urgently." The messenger informed him.

Eragon nodded. Then a smile formed in his lips as the messenger caught sight of Saphira who was examining her huge wings. Aware of the observation, Saphira turned her head in his direction. She bared her sharp teeth. The messenger trembled and actually whimpered. He gripped his dagger so tightly that his knuckles turned a visible white.

"I will see her soon." Eragon told the messenger.

"Yes- yes…sir." The messenger stumbled off to another direction and Eragon turned to Saphira.

"Nasuada wishes to see me. I will be back soon." Eragon made a turn to leave but he cocked his head sideways and chuckled, "You weren't really planning to eat him were you?"

Saphira snorted. _Fortunately, I've just had a meal_. _I had no interest in that one. He was far too skinny for my liking._

**-x-**

There was a soft knock on Nasuada's tent, and she called out, "Come in."

Gracefully Eragon stepped in and bowed, shifting Brisingr's hilt downwards. "Lady Nasuada, I received your message." Eragon said and looked up. Nasuada sat behind her still-messy-desk.

"Eragon," Nasuada said softly, "I have received news from Arya. It seems that she is doing well in her mission."

Eragon's face flickered with interest and concern then returned back to its polite countenance. Nasuada thought that Eragon reminded her of Arya's behaviour. They would express a feeling for a moment then briefly cover it with a blank facade. Eragon was becoming more and more like an elf. Nasuada kept that observation to herself.

"How is she doing? Is everything going well?" Eragon asked eagerly.

"She is doing quite well. She has set up camp near your village; Carvahall." Nasuada replied, observing Eragon's reaction.

Eragon twitched as Carvahall was mentioned. He hadn't been there for quite a while. He had promised to return, and now he could fulfill that promise.

"Has she located the egg?" He asked curiously.

"No. Hopefully, she will get a hold of it soon. However the progress of acquiring the egg would be lengthy. Two hooded magicians have attained the egg and she believes they are also skilled fighters. No doubt that they are Galbatorix' new pets. She also gleaned that these so-called magicians are travelling from village to village, hoping that the egg will hatch for someone," Nasuada explained, "It is an effective method. So if they are doing this, they must be the egg-couriers, which means they must be powerful enough."

Eragon processed the information. He was torn between the duty to stay with his liegelord and his heart to follow and help out Arya. She could be in trouble. As powerful as she was, he couldn't, _wouldn't _risk the chances. He knew he must get to her.

Suddenly aware of Eragon's altered behaviour, Nasuada asked, "What has got you agitated, Eragon?"

"If they are powerful magicians, or some new species Galbatorix has created himself, then Arya..." Eragon trailed off. His throat constricted. No way in _any hell _he was going to let her get captured or killed. He made a decision, "I must get to her before dawn. I can't scry or contact her, I will ride Saphira and we will try and get to her before she intercepts them."

As Nasuada heard Eragon's explanation, her forehead crinkled. "I don't let you go lightly, Eragon. If Murtagh should come, we might be defeated. But hearing from your account last week, they suffered greatly against Oromis and his dragon." She sighed, "I would appreciate it if Blodhgarm and the rest of the Elven spellcasters remained here. So, if you must, then go."

Eragon nodded and bowed. Swiftly, he stepped outside. He hastily told Blodhgarm their plans and received a hesitant submission. Eragon was the only Rider left, both in the Varden and the Elves'. If he should die, then there would be no hope for them. Blodhgarm told him this through their link but Eragon assured him that he wouldn't be captured or killed, so finally, but reluctantly, Blodhgarm had accepted his orders and bode him luck for the journey and mission. Eragon thanked him for his support.

**...**

Eragon explained to Saphira his conversation with Nasuada as they were flying. Saphira flew as fast as she could, her wings flapped vigourously. His own tredipitation fired hers and Saphira had to withdraw somewhat from their link. Eragon's emotions were too fierce and overwhelming. She only hoped to alleviate his anguish by enduring a part of his.

Saphira found her speed after a few minutes and at that moment she was the fastest moving creature in the whole land. Eragon could sense the amounts of energy Saphira used, and was slowly transferring some of his energy to her.

They were halfway, still quite far from Carvahall but they were making great progress. Not once they had stopped for rest or a break. Eragon's concern was profound and Saphira felt her rider's worry creep through their link. _Eragon, calm down. If you were any more nervous, you'd alert any nearby magicians or maybe even Galbatorix himself. _Saphira warned. She had kept the same speed throughout their journey and was still going on strong.

_Sorry, _Eragon muttered and guarded his mind barriers tightly. He transferred some energy from Beloth the Wise to Saphira's strength during the journey. Then he doubled his concentration on flying and no more than four hours later (just after midnight); the sight of Carvahall came into view.

Sadness washed over him when he glimpsed the ruined remnants of his childhood. Garrow's farm; the very plants he had sown and fences he had diligently worked for was nothing more than a giant mound of piled compost. The burnt-down buildings had slowly rotted, and now covered by overgrown grass and moss. As for the rest of the village, it looked so grey and dull that he found it hard to believe that it had even been inhabited at all. Broken doors swung open and shattered windows creaked and rattled as the wind blew against them. Knowing the fact that he had been the one that had destroyed the village Eragon wanted to beat himself. He ruined their lives.

_Eragon..._ Saphira murmured, soothing him. Eragon sent her his reassurance and looked ahead.

Beyond the village, the Spine looked ominous and gloomy, as if awaiting their return. Eragon shuddered at the thought that the forest might be alive and was watching them right now. But he knew he was being paranoid. His distress for Arya made his heart ache with an almost intolerable burden.

Summoning the knowledge of the surroundings, and amalgamating his memories of the woods with Saphira, together they searched for Arya. It took no more than a minute for Saphira to fully remember her way around the woods.

**-x-  
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If it were not for Eragon's elven senses he wouldn't have seen the small visible fire on the ground. Smoke was slowly rising out and Saphira turned towards the direction. She looked like a big black shadow in the sky. A minute later, they landed close to the fire which now Eragon sensed was put out. Arya was aware of their presence. _She has an acute hearing, _Eragon thought.

Eragon leapt off Saphira's saddle and wobbled slightly as he landed to his feet. They _had _been flying for hours; they didn't even stop for a rest. Gathering his bearings and thoughts, Eragon inhaled slowly, acquiring his composure.

_Wait here. _Eragon told Saphira as he crept behind a bush. He took a few more steps and disappeared from Saphira's view.

Although it was eerily dark, Eragon could see his surroundings. He crouched behind a wild plant; he didn't want to frighten Arya in some way, so he figured approaching her slowly would do the trick. Eragon sniffed. A waft of crushed pine trees filled his nostrils. It was an unmistakeable scent. _Arya. _Eragon stood up, trying to follow the smell.

Suddenly his breath was knocked out of him as he was brought down to the floor by a swift kick on the leg. Eragon's first thought was that it was an animal, but who could kick that hard and so quickly? Eragon tried to shake off the figure that was now on top of him. Eragon felt slim hands on his shoulders and realized that it was a human person.

_Maybe a spy or a soldier! _Eragon thought. Eragon blocked jabs and punches aimed at his face but he was defintely not in a good position to protect his body. _He is quick! _Eragon thought as the hand shot up and grabbed him on the neck. The hand tightened, squeezing his air supply.

Choking, Eragon rolled to the side and managed to be on top of the soldier but only for a few seconds. He barely managed to assault the stranger, but he on the other hand recieved hard punches and jabs that would sure to leave bruises. A strong blow struck his right hip and immediately he was on the bottom again. It was like two animals wrestling, but theirs was more deadly. One could gain the upperhand in seconds and finish the other. But they seemed to be equal in abilties, and Eragon had to rely on his instincts to protect himself.

The only sounds they both produced were grunts and the rustle of leaves beneath them. Eragon muttered a spell "Light!" He gasped. What he saw stunned him. He never thought the person could be a _she_.

Arya.

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_CJ.x_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Denied Devotions.**

_This chapter will be in Arya's POV. So Eragon had arrived in time to warn Arya... I know it was kinda unrealistic that Arya had got to Carvahall in a matter of a few days and Eragon and Saphira in a matter of HOURS. But that's the way the story kinda goes… :)_

_Please read and review... thanks!_

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**ARYA'S POV.**

Arya could not believe it. _Unbelievable! _Arya exclaimed mentally. It was the second time in the last couple of days that Eragon had done it again. He appeared out of nowhere. First, the time at the lake, now this._ What is he doing here?! _She screamed, her mind and heart racing. Eragon's widened eyes looked up into her emerald eyes.

Both of them were trying to absorb in the shock. Arya's legs were still wide apart and were resting beside Eragon's hips. If it had not been an awkward situation, Arya might have found the position highly... enticing. That thought alone was enough to unnerve her. Who was she to think of such thoughts? Her mind would have prohibited it, but her heart spoke louder.

Her hands were firmly planted above his broad shoulders, her elbows slightly bent from the weight of her body. Eragon's hands were still, he was too paralyzed to move; let alone talk.

Arya noticed that his breathing had quickened. Her long tresses tumbled down, past her shoulders and face. They hovered above Eragon's cheeks, as light as a feather. A strip of faint light had managed to break through Arya's midnight black hair; it shone right through Eragon's swirl pool of brown eyes. A glimmer of hope and passion flickered in them, as if they were trying to break out of him.

Arya realized that she did not want to move. She wanted to gaze at him, to take in his flawlessness. Even Faolin hadn't been this perfect. She knew in her heart that she favoured and liked Eragon more. He got to her in more ways than Faolin ever did. They were suited; bounded by their Wyrd. But alas, she would never allow that. Their roles were far too important in the Varden and Alageasia.

This in her mind, Arya finally spoke. "Sorry." She spoke and stood up stiffly. Embarrassed, she looked away, brushing away the leaves that had clung to her black leather pants.

"I apologize." Eragon managed to reply after getting up. They both stood straight; Eragon fidgeting and Arya trying to find words to say. She felt a tingling sensation rising to her cheeks and she knew she was blushing. Her mind cried out with panic instantly. At that moment, she was glad that it was dark, so he couldn't see.

"Where is Saphira?" Arya asked, trying to shrug off the enormous pressure that had slowly built up between them. It wasn't an awkward tension, but rather anticipation.

"Nearby," Eragon replied, giving her a sideways glance, "I'll call her."

Eragon's face momentarily turned serious as he concentrated talking to Saphira through their Gedwey Ignasia. Arya led Eragon to the temporary campsite and they sat down around the fading fire.

It bursts into green flames as Arya powered more energy to it and then it subsided to its normal orange fiery colour. _THUD! _Saphira landed close to them and nearly blew out the fire as she flapped her wings.

_Arya._ Saphira projected her thoughts and nodded her head.

"Saphira." Arya replied and exchanged a few more pleasantries before turning to Eragon.

"How come you are here? And without contacting me first?" She asked blankly. Eragon tensed, ready to battle Arya with words. He knew she could be relentless at times. Arya remained in her position, her eyes locked to his.

"Well I tried to contact you, but your barriers were too strong." Eragon explained. "Also Nasuada told me about your mission and the magicians." His voice tried to remain calm and controlled. Arya did not interrupt and Eragon carried on, "Well, I think that they are..."

He explained his theory about the spies, how they could be Galbatorix' new right hand men or maybe they were created especially for their job. And lastly how dangerous they could be. Arya paused then finally replied, "Eragon, I can take care of myself. I don't-"

She did not finish because Eragon had cut her off, "But neither you nor I have ever come across them before. We don't know how powerful they are. I am worried and concerned for you." Arya stiffened and glanced him a 'don't-start-on-the-helpless-human-we-elves-are-more-independent' look. Eragon acknowledged Arya's expression and quickly added, "I mean, I was worried for you…as a friend. Nothing more." And what a lie that was.

**SAPHIRA'S POV.**

Saphira was squashed at a little corner encircled by tall trees. She recoiled her tail and watched the pair get uneasy around each other. Their conversation -which she thought was useless- had ended a while ago. Eragon was leaning against a log, looking up at the sky while Arya studied him closely. She had pretended not to watch him, but she failed. Saphira knew she had been observing her Rider silently. Arya's eyes were carefully examining him, as if he were a delicious dish that she could not eat yet. Their relationship astounded and amused her. How could they not see how they viewed each other?

Saphira dared to talk to her, _forgive me if I am wrong, but are you taking an interest in my rider?_

Saphira knew Arya had heard her because she shot her a nervous glare. Saphira dangerously darted her back an accusing look. She would bare her fangs, but that would catch Eragon's attention. And at the moment, she only wanted to interrogate the stubborn-hot-headed elf princess.

Arya spoke softly and gently, _I do not have any feelings for your rider... _She trailed off, unable to look at Saphira.

_Then how come you are looking at him as if he were a complete fascination? _

Arya glanced at Saphira, her eyes trying to look innocent. _I am not! _She snapped back venomously.

Saphira looked at her, then spoke. Her voice was strong and persuasive. _Arya, I know you must be confused right now. I know your position as an Elf Princess and as an Ambassador and Eragon as a Dragon rider. I know he has also realized this but he still pursues you, but doesn't because he values your friendship too much. Too much that he disregards the emotions that is blatantly destroying him._

_I don't even know the **very **depth of his feelings, but what I do know, is that he truly loves you with all his heart. If you are letting your position and your broad age gap stop you from returning your feelings to him, perhaps you do not love him enough and therefore you two are not meant to be. _

_As his dragon, I believe that he deserves someone better who will love him with all her heart and soul. He has loved you since he has first set eyes on you in Gil'ead and until now. I know what he is thinking about right now, but I prefer not to tell you as it's a betrayal to his privacy...- he's not very good at trying to contain his thoughts…_

_But anyway, when you left for the mission, you have not left his mind for more than a second. You had him running around everywhere and he hasn't calmed down until he saw you... Now I ask you again, do you have any interest in my rider? Yes or no. Simple question._

**ARYA'S POV.**

Aye, it _was_ a simple question but the answer will prove to complicate things. But nevertheless, what Saphira had said was absolutely true. The whole thing amazed her, how could a dragon know so much?

_I also saw your encounter with him in the woods. It took both of you quite a while to get off each other. I thought you would never allow that kind of interaction…and that long… _Saphira smiled mischievously.

Arya blushed furiously. There was no way she could deny that. She shifted uncomfortably, the moment had been extremely intimate and passion had emerged from both of them. She had not even noticed how long they were in that position for.

_Well... I... _Arya stammered. But suddenly Eragon spoke.

"Arya, is there something wrong?"

Struggling, she tried to change her startled expression, but simply found the task impossible.

"Nothing's wrong, Eragon-vhor." She replied quickly, trying desperately to sound impassive, she turned away "I will rest now."

Eragon nodded, "Do you want me to keep watch?"

Saphira quickly interrupted and told them, _I will find somewhere else to sleep. I find this spot despicably uncomfortable. I bid you both goodnight and I will see you in the morning. _Eragon said his goodbyes mentally and Arya nodded towards her.

Before Saphira left, she shot Arya a furtive look. Puzzled, Arya flitted her a questioning glance. _This is your chance. _Saphira told her. Before she could protest, the sapphire dragon flew upwards, and away. Frustrated, Arya groaned inwardly and laid down in a soft grassy spot and used her bag as a pillow.

**During the night.**

Eragon looked around and back at the sleeping Arya. They were alone. Completely alone. _This is not the right time... _Eragon mumbled to himself.

_What do you mean? This is the perfect time! You two are alone! Tell her how much you love her. _A voice urged him.

_Nay, she will reject me again! _Eragon protested.

_How do you know if you haven't tried?_

_Well, she's asleep. She won't hear me anyway. _

_Excuses, excuses... _The voice mocked him for being a coward.

Eragon gave up and took a calm intake of breath and walked over to Arya. _Now or never... _Eragon muttered breathlessly. He will tell her now, sleeping or awake.

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_CJ.x_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: If I Let You Go.**

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**Arya's Dream.**

_Arya's midnight black hair glimmered in the dark and her slender arms were held out. A tall elf stepped into the embrace and they held each other tightly. Arya's head was gently resting on Faolin's shoulder._

_"I wish we could stay like this forever..." Arya said quietly, her voice soft._

_"My Arya," Faolin whispered, he pulled away but just close enough that he still held Arya in his strong arms, "You do not know how much I have longed for this special moment. With you." _My Arya... _she repeated quietly in her head. It was a wonderful sound._

_They remained locked in each other's arms for a couple more minutes then slowly Faolin's arms let go of hers. His face was sad yet he was smiling._

_He spoke lightly and calmly, "I know I'll always have a place in your heart Arya, but someone needs it more than I do." He whispered and with that he disappeared. _

_Arya cried, "Faolin! Don't leave me! Don't -"_

"Arya..." A voice said quietly.

Arya's eyes shot up, her visions caught up with her brain. She scanned her surroundings, lying still in the same position. She stiffened when she heard the voice again. It was Eragon's.

"I just want to tell you that..." He paused. Arya realized that he was unaware that she was actually awake. His voice was soft and barely audible.

_(A/N: These are lyrics to a song called If I Let Yo Go, but Eragon says it...)_

"Day after day, when time passes away... I just can't get you off my mind. Nobody knows I hide it inside, I keep on searching but I can't find; the courage to show to letting you know that I've never felt so much love before. And once again I'm thinking about taking the easy way out."

"But if I let you go, I will never know what my life would be holding you close to me... will I ever see you smiling back at me? How will I know... if I let you go?"

"Night after night, I hear myself saying; '_Why can't this feeling just fade away?' _But there's no one like you; you speak to my heart. It's such a shame we're worlds apart. I'm too shy to ask and I'm too proud to lose; but sooner or later I gotta choose... And once again I'm thinking about taking the easy way out."

"If I _let_ you go, I will never know what my life could be holding you close to me. Will I ever see you smiling back at me? How will I know? If I let you go..." Eragon finished, breathless.

Throughout the whole time; Arya remained completely motionless and her eyes were shut tight but she desperately wanted to see Eragon. She felt her own face reddening- she was _blushing _again! But what was more unbelievable was that she could not believe what she had just heard. Her heart leaped and her breathing quickened... _Has he started to lose hope on me? _Arya asked herself, sadness seeping into her. _That's good isn't it? _

She remembered Eragon's words:

_If I let you go  
I will never know  
What my life would be  
Holding you close to me  
Will I ever see  
You smiling back at me  
How will I know?  
If I let you go..._

Arya realized a long time ago that Eragon's suit was not just youthful adore; it was beyond anything she expected. Their time together at Eastcroft was...wonderful- she had to admit and it brought them closer; but nothing major happened. She did not express more-than-friend feelings towards him, Eragon tried not to, but Arya knew that he still felt attracted to her. _So what's this all about then? If he wants to let me go, why does he feel the need to say it?_

Her brain ached profoundly from the questions that rang out loudly in her mind. _What will I do? Or... What will he do? _Arya tried not to move, but she did open her eyes, what she saw melted her icy personality.

Eragon's eyes were filled with tears, and they were falling freely from his flawless cheeks. He looked pensive, and then he snapped out of it; his gaze returning to Arya. Quickly she closed her eyes again.

Suddenly Arya felt a smooth fingertip tracing the outline of her face. She would have jolted upright if it had not been for her control.

Hesitating whether to stop Eragon from getting this intimate to her, Arya gave in and let him stroke her cheek softly. She wanted to hold his hand, but tried not to. Right then she was oblivious to everything, all that mattered was _Eragon_.

Slowly, she shifted her position. That seemed to have startled Eragon, and his hand immediately flew away from her warm cheek. Arya laid still for a moment, she lifted one eyelid and saw Eragon nervously crawling back to his place. Seeing this opportunity Arya muttered a spell, and instantly everything seemed to have turned darker. The flames flickered, then went out.

Then Arya opened her eyes, it was difficult to see in the dark, but they adjusted pretty quickly. Eragon's head whipped around, suddenly suspicious. When he made sure that no one was around, he seemed to have liked the idea of complete darkness.

"Should've thought of that first," Arya heard Eragon mutter.

There was shuffling noises and she nearly gasped in surprise when she felt Eragon's hot breath on her ear. His hand hovered above her cheek, softly touching it. Unsure, she layed there frozen, slightly shivering from his gentle yet fiery touch. _What is he doing...? _Arya wondered. Eragon's face was not far apart from hers, and she was dreading if he was going to try what she thought he will. But he did not.

Arya felt astonishingly disappointed but also relieved that he would not do such a thing without her permission; it would have been a betrayal of her trust.

"Arya, you do not know how I have longed for this special moment. With you." He whispered lightly in her ear. Arya's eyes widened. _Did I hear that right? _Has she heard that before from someone else? Her head racked for answers.

Abruptly she felt Eragon's hand cupping her cheek. Slowly, Arya closed her eyes. This was incredibly an intense moment; Arya was not sure whether to end it or not. She had let Eragon touch her. _Her cheek, her face. _She felt enthralled. Her heart hammered, and she struggled to slow her breathing. _Why is he starting to affect me this way?_ Arya felt drawn to him, her heart being pulled closer to his.

**Normal POV.**

Everything seemed to have gone slow-motion. Arya sat up. Eragon gasped; panicked and embarrassed- he did not dare move or speak. He half-crouched there, infront of Arya.

"Garjzla!" _Light! _Eragon uttered. There was Arya gracefully sitting upright. She looked astonishingly beautiful and her emerald green eyes contained no emotion but they sparkled brightly.

"Eragon." Arya murmured. She stood up. Instinctively Eragon stood up as well, his eyes locked to hers. Arya stepped closer and cupped his chin. Eragon's heart leaped. Hope flickered in his eyes, as his hand connected with hers. Arya's eyes watered and Eragon touched her cheek.

Before she could change her mind, Arya leaned in, her heart pounding as if it was trying to break out of her fragile chest. Eragon tilted his head. Their lips inches apart...

Suddenly Arya's head swivelled in another direction and Eragon's lips ended up near her left ear. Arya opened her mouth and a single tear rolled down her unblemished cheek. "Forgive me, but this cannot be. It is not right. I'm sorry."

Slowly she pulled away. Tears were sliding down from her emerald green eyes. Once again she summoned the courage and lightly laid her hand on Eragon's cheek. Eragon's eyes contained a mixture of sadness and hurt. Guilt started consuming Arya. She had hoped she would not regret the decision to tell him but now she started to.

Arya looked at Eragon, and softly said, "I'm so sorry." Her voice quavered, and the impassive Arya slowly fell apart; her strong voice replaced by a weak one. Eragon felt heavy tears slide down his smooth cheeks: each teardrop glistened like a diamond.

"I truly am... sorry." Arya repeated for the third and final time. Quickly she turned away and ran off into the woods. Her hair danced wildly behind her, and her shoulder shook uncontrollably as she sobbed quietly. Leaves fluttered on the ground as she went past. Eragon was too pained to move. His feet were glued to the floor. "Arya." He said softly, his tone hurt but a hint of passion emerged, _"I will never let you go."_

He looked up; his eyes were still watery and contained numerous emotions; sad yet full of hope. Weak but full of determination. "I will _never _let you go, Arya. I promise." With that he set off after his loved one.

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_CJ.x_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Drottningu's Battle.**

_^ (The Princess' Battle) ^_

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Lost, alone and completely exhausted, Arya dropped on her knees, crying. She covered her face with her smooth hands. _Eragon... _Arya sobbed. She was unsure why she was actually crying. _If I don't love Eragon, then why am I in this state? _She asked herself.

Gently, Arya leaned against a tree, her hair covered half of her beautiful face but she did not care. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know how far she had ran... everything around her was a blur; even her mind. It took her decades trying to rebuild herself after she was banished by her own mother... and Faolin's death. But right now she felt it crumble, every single barrier collapsing to the ground.

_I had a... chance to... love again._ She was nothing like the impassive, blank Arya that everyone knew. Finally she had broken down, emotionally, mentally and physically. Slowly she closed her already swollen red eyes and whispered almost inaudibly, "I'm so sorry, Eragon.. I'm sorry."

_I have denied his affection... and so to my own happiness. _Arya thought. Tears flowed heavily from her sombre emerald eyes. They were clouded with utter dejection and severe anxiety. Uncertain of what to do, Arya could only look up at the star constellations; examining how each light twinkled like her eyes. She wished upon a star that luck would shine upon her life. Where had her star gone when Faolin died? And, where has it gone when everything is now ruined between her and Eragon?

For the first time in her life, she didn't want to act like the person everyone wanted her to be.

She bit her lip, trying to keep her tears under control. She curled up into a ball and before drifting on to a dreamless and restless sleep, she said lightly, "Eragon, don't ever let me go...please." Time seemed meaningless to her, each passing minute an inevitable torment, each passing second a prolonged misery. Close. She just needed to shut her eyes and seal herself off from the outside world. One more step... one more movement; she would be an inch closer to definite and perpetual darkness...

_..._

_..._

_..._

Rustling_. _

_What is that sound? _

The harsh wind brushed against Arya's skin. The eerie ambience compelled her to awaken, forcing her out of her protective shell. Arya jolted upright, grabbing her swords in one elegant motion. She positioned heself to a fighting stance. An inhumane, guttural sound was produced and Arya's ears strained to acknowledge it. Her eyes flitted towards the trees. Vigilance invaded Arya's mind, driving everything out. Eradicating her thoughts about Eragon, she concentrated on the situation at hand.

Low growling came from two different directions. Fearless, Arya stealthily stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Breathing softly, she scanned her surroundings, searching any soldiers or spies ahead.

A hooded figure advanced forward and another one emerged from the treetops. Arya's heartbeat quickened. She realized they were the same ones she had spotted yesterday; the ravenous spies who ate human flesh. Briefly she remembered the dead soldier; his body ripped to pieces and his innards chewed by the monsters who were now presented infront of her. She shuddered inwardly. She will not be defeated by these repulsive monsters.

"Ah, Arya Drottningu." One of the taller figures ahead of her rasped. Arya cringed, her skin pricked as she heard the voice. It was distorted and rough. It was an unpleasing sound to the ears. _They're not humans. _Arya thought, but she was even more uneasy about how the stranger knew her name.

"We know you have been spying on us, _Elf_." The smaller one grunted. Arya gripped her swords tighter. Her eyes found it hard to search the faces behind the hoods. She figured both of them were male because of their deep distorted voices. The two black figures slowly met and now stood side by side, their heads held up high. They were almost similar, but their height was the only difference; one was taller than the other.

"What are you?" Arya could not resist asking. One of them produced a cackling sound as if it the question was a laughing matter.

"What are we?..." He chuckled, "Well-"

"Enough talk," The taller one grumbled, "Let's take her to Galbatorix. It would please him if we brought him the third egg and this arrogant _Elf _to him." He said the word elf as if it was repulsive. Arya shot him a piercing gaze.

"Yess..." The small one hissed, "It would destroy that young, foolish rider!"

Arya winced. _Eragon! How did they know about us? _For a moment Arya's mind returned to the recent event that had happened earlier. The thoughts of Eragon flooded her mind. Her heart wrenched.

"Love can be such a burden, isnt it?" One of them asked her amusingly. Arya's lips tightened. _These spies are mind readers..._

"Only one of us, that's me." The taller one said, keeping his hands together.

Arya panicked, she tried to conceal her expression and was barely succesful. Slowly the the two figures separated directions. Arya now faced two dangerous foes, one infront and the other one behind.

"I'd rather watch; it will be amusing how she will try effortlessly to fight back." The smaller one cackled. _That's it!_ Arya had enough insults. Elves can be angered easily if offended.

Swiftly she pulled a dagger from her knife pocket and threw it at his direction. It travelled at such a tremendous speed, it was impossible to stop it...or so she thought. Arya's face drained of colour as her opponent caught the dagger's hilt.

The emerald-hilted dagger rested perfectly between his slitted index and middle finger. _What kind of creatures are these? _Arya wondered.

Stunned of his startling speed, Arya could only stand there, too amazed. Distracted, she failed to react quickly when the dagger came flying back and dug itself deep in her thigh, penetrating her leggings.

A pained groan escaped her lips and she struggled to maintain her balance. Her injured leg wobbled. Arya bit her lip so she wouldn't scream, and slowly she grabbed the dagger and yanked it out. It produced a sick, squelching sound.

Crimson red blood oozed from her cut and Arya held the stained dagger infront of her. She noticed that there was black liquid at the top of it. Suddenly she felt incredible pain, a shock that ran from her cut to the rest of her weakening body. Her visions started to blur. _Poison... _She scarely managed to think.

Her oponent growled hungrily. "Before we hand her to Galbatorix, let's see how she tastes like first!" He snarled. He jumped and Arya summoned all the strength she had to stand up straight and block the oncoming blow.

"Waise- " She tried to heal the wound but the hooded figure held two broad swords that had magically appeared and held it expertly.

The taller one watched from the sidelines, entertained by Arya's agony. Despite her injury, Arya twisted and lunged rapidly, but her footing failed her. Her opponent slashed another deep wound on her right forearm. Arya screamed in pain. Gasping she dropped one of her swords. Her elven armour was tinged with splattered blood. She held her other sword skillfully with her left hand.

"I'm not giving to give up easily." Arya said through gritted teeth.

"You're a tough elf arent you?" Her opponent mocked, "Elves and their foolish, arrogant pride."

Arya let out a cry and fought single-handedly. She kept her wounded hand safely close to her stomach. Blow after blow, neither gave up. Sparks flew from their clashing swords. Emerald against black.

"Enough!" The taller one barked. Arya's opponent backed away immediately. "Just get her."

Arya glanced nervously between the two. She realized that she was completely _helpless_. One of them muttered a spell and Arya stiffened. She tried to move but could not. Beads of sweat thickly rolled down from her temples. Arya tried to speak but no words came out. Unexpectedly, her opponent stepped forward and clasped her forehead with one hand.

Black magic clouded her mind. Gradually Arya felt a memorable feeling overcome her. Poision slowly consumed her. All energy drained her. She realized it was the same method the Durza had used to drug her. Arya's drooping eyes looked up to find a set of red slitted eyes staring back at her. Arya felt weakened and her head lolled helplessly sideways. When everything seemed lost; Arya's hope rekindled when she heard a familiar voice.

"Arya!" She heard Eragon's alarmed call. Arya, with her remaining strength, searched where the sound was coming from. Her eyes rested on a strong figure. There was Eragon, Brisingr in his hand, his face a look of anger and worry. Arya's eyes slowly closed as all the fleeting strength left her body. She whispered, "Eragon..." Before drifting off to an oblivious slumber.

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_ALL REVIEWS ARE VERY APPRECIATED. _Thanks!

_CJ.x_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

_Urm, hello guys. Sorry, long time, no update. :/ Now you're probably wondering why this isn't Chapter 23. Lol. Well, I've always wanted to re-write the story, but maybe not the whole thing. So, I've kept the first 7 chapters, and majorly altered this one, so sadly (or not!) it affects the original chapters. So I've decided to start from Chapter 8 again. If you want, read from the first chapter to familiarize yourselves with the story again. _

_I like this chapter __and I hope it renews your interest on the whole story. This time, I will try to keep to Eragon and Arya's characters like in the books, but if it's still slightly OC... well, I've tried. :D Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and the whole story. The original chapters (if you remember them) will have similarities to the coming chapters. I'm aiming for a more angst-y relationship for Eragon and Arya, so the "happy" chapters might be later on in the story. So, read ahead guys. Thank you for the new readers who've added me/the story to their favourites. _

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"Arya!" Eragon cried, charging at the hooded figure.

"Thyrsta!" A ferocious force of magic sent him flying to a tree. Eragon grunted, rubbing his head. Acute pain darted all over his body, especially his throbbing back. _Saphira...come! _Eragon yelled mentally.

_Eragon, what's wrong?_

_Come here right now...trouble. _Eragon trailed off. He sent Saphira an image of the location and then concentrated back on the fight. He saw Arya on the background, shivering violently. Crimson blood was still seeping out of her tenuous body. His emotions turned into turmoil of wrath. It surged through him aggressively, and he was even surprised by its intensity.

"_You_ are going to die." Eragon threatened venomously. One of them cackled maniacally.

"You are just a farm boy. We expect nothing more," One of them hissed, "We'd love to kill you, slowly...painfully. But I'm sure Galbatorix would like to do that himself."

"Farm boy? Bah! It is a pleasure to say that your information about me is invalid." Eragon snapped back. He released another fire of blue ball from his glowing palm towards the two figures. They dismissed it casually. Eragon didn't know what he should expect from these strangers, but then again, caution eluded him as he saw Arya on the ground. No, these strangers needed to fear _him_.

Saphira arrived in the scene a few seconds later, and snapped her powerful jaws at one of the hooded figures. Terrified by her appearance, they disappeared. Saphira roared thunderously. _Cowards! _

Eragon ran over to Arya, her breathing ragged. Her ashen face was covered by her dark hair, and her agonized whimpers tore through Eragon. No this couldn't be happening. He closed his eyes and let his hand hover on top of her cut. He winced. Poison had invaded most of her body. If he took her to Ellesmera, would it be too late? Frustrated, he turned to Saphira, tears stinging his eyes.

"There's too much poison. I ... she won't be able to make it._" _Saphira folded her wings and neared his rider. The sentence hung heavily in the air. Eragon shook in fury. His fists bunched, he bellowed to the heavens. _Please… don't let her die on me._ Blue flames ruptured out of his body and his wrath was so fierce, he felt his Gedwey Ignasia expelling fire. His fingertips sizzled dark blue flames and his arms were momentarily enveloped by a blue hue.

Anguished, Eragon searched his mind for any information of healing. He could attempt and concoct Tunivor's nectar, but the process was extremely intricate and would take him far too long.

"Saphira," Eragon spoke, his voice thick, "Fly her to Ellesmera, it's much faster without-"

Saphira growled, her teeth bared. _Eragon..._

"I can't let her die!" Eragon shouted. "Saphira, please... take her."

Eragon scooped Arya off the floor smoothly. He sealed her wound, but he knew that the poison was still gnawing its way around her body. Her countdown was initiated.

Saphira stared at her body and then back at Eragon. She growled her answer, _And what will you do?_

Eragon's answer was immediate, _I'll track _them _down._

_Don't be so foolish! _

Eragon smirked,_ I already am._

He strapped Arya on Saphira's back and gently tucked her dark tresses behind her delicate ears. He whispered to her, _"Please live... for me."_

Ambling away, he looked back at Saphira. "Fly swift. And take care. _Ganga_, Saphira. Go." He said softly.

Saphira narrowed her eyes at him. _I'll be back for you._

Eragon nodded and disappeared into the woods. He felt the air swirl around him and he knew that Saphira had taken off.

His fury dimmed, but it hadn't disappeared, it lingered in his emotions and he felt it mounting to the surface again. He had lost too many of his beloved. He would not lose another one. _Especially _Arya.

Eragon clasped Brisingr in its sheath and started to sprint. He searched for signs, footprints, anything to lead him to the strangers. But there were none. Everything seemed bleak. Frustrated but determined, he trudged on.

For minutes, he found himself walking deeper into the Spine. The wind howled furiously. His initial anger was dissipating, replaced by curiosity and a stab of fear. In his earlier days, Eragon had only ventured on the outskirts of the Spine, but he hadn't gone this far. The woods were unfamiliar to him and he felt a prickling sensation travel along his spine.

Alert, he unsheathed Brisingr and guided himself with a werelight. Dawn would come soon, but for now, everything was still dark and the woods didn't help either. He was casted in the shadows, and he didn't know what lurked beyond or around him. For the second time in the night, he felt overwhelming trepidation.

Saphira was right. He was foolish to even try to venture after them. It was apparent that they were obviously skilled in magic. They could've camouflaged themselves or they could be on their way to Galbatorix' castle right now. He would contact Saphira, but now, she was occupied with taking Arya to the elves. He wouldn't disturb her.

So for now, he needed to take care of himself. Slowing his pace to careful strides, he glanced around him. Suddenly, Eragon remembered something. Although he had stored Glaedr's eldunari away safely, he knew he could still contact his mentor, albeit at a far distance.

_Master Glaedr?_ He asked, hopeful. The ancient dragon was still in mourning, but Eragon really needed his advice right now. He knew in his studies that no one had ever really explored the Spine. No one ever found out how half of Galbatorix' army had managed to disappear. The elves had stayed in their forests and excluded this forest. Only rarely, in the scrolls had there been a mention of it.

_Eragon? _Glaedr's voice echoed in his head like a tired whisper. The voice was faint, but Eragon could still hear the gold dragon.

Relieved that his master had replied, Eragon spoke, _I'm sorry for disturbing you, master Glaedr. But I... I am in a difficult predicament at the moment. I need your advice. _

Glaedr paused and then he answered quietly, _What is it?_

Leisurely, Eragon showed him his memories, of what happened with Arya, his anguish and fury. Eragon felt Glaedr's presence in his mind and in his fading memory of Saphira shooting off to the sky, the ancient dragon said, _Eragon, your feelings for Arya; do not let them distract you in the future. The reason why you are in this predicament is that because of your rash decision to stay behind. Vengeance will not answer everything. I understand the decision you had to make, but why venture into the unknown? _

_Those strangers you have stumbled across, I believe, is Galbatorix' new pets. They are highly dangerous... and unexpected. You can be killed, do not think yourself invincible. Without fear, there is no courage. In this, you have been senseless. _

_Now tell me, what is it that made you foolish enough to get yourself in this situation? Bravery or idiocy? _

Despite his condition, Eragon actually smiled. _Perhaps both, master. _He let a moment pass, then asked, _Do I go after them or walk away?_

Glaedr replied, _The Spine is an unpredictable place. You could lose yourself and your sanity. Yes, there is a great benefit of executing those spies, but you are more important. If you are captured, the Varden's hope is diminished. Alagaesia as you know it will again be continued to rule under the King tyrant._

Glaedr paused and then he resumed, _You know your directions. Head towards back to Carvahall. Do not tangle yourself into deeper trouble, _he warned, _though perhaps, you might already have. What lurks in the Spine, I know not, but know that no one has ever familiarized themselves enough to learn about its secrets. Be careful, Eragon. Its legend is not to be considered thoughtlessly._

_Yes, master._

With that, the ancient dragon withdrew from Eragon's mind. Eragon shook his head, feeling slightly dazed. He thought he glimpsed a rusty copper door handle on a rock but he disregarded it. Huh, the Spine really did make some people crazy. Eragon pursued his tracks from where he came from. But he froze as soon as he saw other footprints on the ground. He cursed himself for not covering _his_ own tracks. After realizing he had been followed and hearing a sword slicing through the air, he was only on time to block a blow that would've finished him off.

Turning around, he parried a blow from the head. He found himself facing a hooded figure with glowing red eyes. His senses rapidly returning to him, Eragon attacked. Magic discharged from them, but they were counteracted effortlessly.

Gripping Brisingr with both hands, he delivered a descending blow to the head, but his opponent was swift and deadly, nipping Eragon's left hip with the sharp tip of his sword. Wincing in pain, Eragon hastily leapt away before the sword could bury itself in his stomach.

"Eragon Morzansson." The figure rasped. Eragon's back stiffened. Even though the information was false, he marvelled how it knew. Eragon knew his father was Brom, not _that _traitor.

"What are you?" Eragon asked as they circled each other. His hip burned but if he tended to it, his attacker would pounce on him.

"Do you not remember?" It cackled evilly. "Should I ask you to summon the essence of silver again? Or would you tremble from the exertion?"

Realization dawned on him, and before Eragon could speak, a strike from behind destroyed his wards and knocked him unconscious. The last image he saw were two similar hooded figures. _The Twins._

**-x-**

Arya felt her head pounding, her breathing shallow and uneasy. Excruciating torment ruled her body and that was all she could feel. She remembered that she was poisoned, so shouldn't she be dead right now? Was this the void? If it was, they were true. It was empty and endless.

But then, did they say that there was going to be pain? Because that was what kept her attention. Pain lets you know you were alive, so she must be. Unless, the damned sentiment followed her into the afterlife. How unfortunate she was. Hadn't she wished on a star? But she shouldn't have kept her hopes up. Immortal or not, stars didn't pay attention to her. Their brilliance and beauty will never be fixed on her.

**-x-**

Dull throbbing pounded Eragon's head. He felt the cold floor beneath him and the bitter air prickling his skin. Groaning, Eragon opened his eyes and he found himself looking at grey concrete walls. Alarm jolted him and he sat up instantly, only to feel nauseous and dizzy. Eragon's hands shook from the effort as he held himself upright. That was when he noticed he had black shackles around his wrists. Horror filled him as he realized he was held first thought was Gil'ead but he knew the elves had laid siege to it. So where exactly was he?

Scolding himself for getting caught, Eragon tried contacting Saphira, but his link was severed. Fear engulfed him. He tried contacting Glaedr, but his link was also damaged. Cursing in frustration, Eragon shook the shackles, trying to release himself. Helpless, Eragon looked around, trying to discern anything that could get him free. His armour was taken away and he was only garbed in his tunic and leather pants. Anxiety filled him as he realized they had also taken away Brisingr and Beloth the Wise.

Whipping his head, Eragon perceived his items on the far corner of the room. He was partly relieved that he could see them, and he felt Aren in his hand. He almost laughed. They were stupid enough to leave his ring on. But when he endeavoured to use magic but he couldn't. More dread filled him; they drugged him as well.

He felt sluggish and weak. He glanced around. There were disturbing fissures on the wall where he guessed had been clawed and scratched by former prisoners. Dried blood were splashed on the floor. Chill crept up his spine and the animosity of the air stung him. Saphira was right, he should've just headed to Ellesmera, but no, he had to be stubborn and now he had gotten himself into trouble. Enormous trouble. Eragon winced at what Nasuada's reaction will be, especially Arya's.

No doubt that he would get berating from both of them. Eragon sighed. Even though he would welcome his scolding, he was still extremely anxious about Arya. Had Saphira gotten her to Ellesmera on time?

If she did and was now safe, then Eragon would gratefully welcome her complaints about him being careless. Her being safe was all the reassurance he'd need. Despite the hunger and weakness gnawing at him, the heart ache overrode it all. She had rejected him again. But now, he won't make the same mistake again. He will not pursue her. Hopefully, his advances hadn't eradicated their friendship. Eragon valued it more than his fealty to the Varden.

Rattling keys caught Eragon's attention, and he faced the door, bracing himself for the worse. The door slowly creaked open and a soldier emerged from the sinister shadows. He held a barbed whip in his hands and his face bore an evil smile.

"The orders are you are to be punished until you reveal information about the Varden." The soldier said gruffly. He entered the cell and dragged Eragon to stand. "Now, _please_ if there are any information you need to impart, now would be the time to tell them."

Eragon honestly didn't believe that. He would be punished whether he told information or not. He spat on the floor. "Never."

The crack of the whip whistled through the air and Eragon hissed as the barbed tip came into contact with his right cheek. The soldier circled him.

"Considering the punishment I have been carried out to follow, this is nothing compared to what will happen to you later. The Twins are famous for their... _wonderful methods _of extracting information." The soldier said, almost gleefully.

"Well then, you aren't doing very well. Your method is pathetic." The smirk faded from the soldier's lips and another whistle sliced through the air as the whip caught Eragon on the same spot. He suppressed an anguished cry. Provoking the soldier was a poor decision Eragon thought, but his resentment was towards himself. Why did he even get himself into this mess?

After five whips on the roughly the same spot on his cheek, Eragon silenced his protests and comments. He gritted his teeth in pain and clenched his hands in a fist. His tunic had been torn off and his body was completely exposed. He couldn't raise his arms to protect himself, so he tried to soften the blows by angling his body away from the whips.

Time escaped him and Eragon could only feel the pain. After what seemed like an eternity of torment, the soldier shoved him roughly to the floor.

"Your resistance is impressive." He chuckled, "I'd love to see what would make you break." With that the soldier left. Eragon collapsed on his knees. He felt the blood oozing from his wounds. His torso, back, arms and cheeks burned. No doubt that torn skin were hanging off the wounds.

Gasping for air, Eragon wiped the blood from his wounds. As he examined his wounds, his stomach tightened. They were deep, and some of the barbed thorns from the whip had buried themselves in his wounds. His eyesight was vague and hazy, but nevertheless he dug the tips from his wounds and tossed them aside.

Clenching his teeth in utter agony, Eragon fell to his side. The cold, blood stained floor met his wounded cheek. He had no more strength left to hold himself upright. What had been his training and suffering for if he could not even last just over seventy lashings? Closing his eyes, Eragon laid down on the floor and fell into oblivion.

...

Eragon came awake to the icy water slapping his face. He jolted and felt the pain arcing through his whole body. His shackles restrained him from lashing out whoever unlucky was near enough. The water had been extremely cold, and it seeped through his dried wounds. The sensation was electrifying.

Eragon's eyesight focused on two figures infront of him. Their hoods were drawn and he was startled at what he beheld. Red eyes glowed in the murky shadows and crooked yellow teeth smirked at him. Their bald heads were distorted and so were their faces. Deep scars ran from their temples and into their chins. One was slightly taller than the other, but their horrifying appearance was eerily the same.

"Ah, now that we have you awake, let us commence." The taller one rasped. The smaller one observed Eragon as if he were a small insect on the wall.

"Birnaen hasn't done very well, I see." The taller one noted. Birnaen must've been the soldier who came in earlier, Eragon thought. "You've changed since we last saw you, human. Or whatever you are."

Eragon almost laughed bitterly. He was a freak among the races; a unique hybrid or whatever he was. But first, there was a question he had been itching to ask.

"Where am I?"

"In prison." One of the Twins laughed bitterly. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you where you are. After those blasted elves conquered Gil'ead, we made another prison. It's near the outskirts of the Hadarac desert. It looks like a small house, but underground, it is a prison." Eragon shivered. An underground prison. How was he going to be rescued now? Hope vanished from him.

"So far there are five of you in here. This is customarily the torture room, but we deemed it _appropriate_ that since you are going to be tortured incessantly anyway, this is the best room for you." Eragon glanced at the scratch marks and dried blood on the walls and floors. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

The Twin continued, "Ha, how do you feel, rider? You have been degraded to humiliation. You are kept in the same building with criminals. Thieves and murderers… that's your company."

Eragon ignored his speech and spat on their feet.

"We are going to savour torturing you." The Twin spoke, his voice menacing.

With a defying expression, Eragon held the taller one's gaze. He was not intimidated by their power or their appearance. If he was going through another agonizing ordeal, then bring it. He would not divulge any information to them.

Suddenly, the smaller one spoke. "Let's see about that."

Alarmed, Eragon realized that he could read his mind. Shutting his mind into nothing but a sturdy, solid wall, he grinned at the shorter twin. No one would break his defences.

The other twin gave Eragon a sneer. "Torture is always the answer. We could try breaking your mind, you pathetic little rider, but we would not want to lose the satisfaction in making you beg for mercy. Your cries will echo through these walls and you will feel nothing but absolute pain."

Eragon stared at them impassively. He was already beyond pain. Didn't they know he had received just over seventy lashings and his body was too numb to even feel anymore?

The smaller one grunted and with a flick of his hand, a tray of tools appeared before Eragon. He suppressed the horror rising to his face. Torturing devices laid out before him. Suddenly, Eragon remembered the scars Arya held on her back when he had rescued her from Gil'ead. The sufferings she must have endured were from these similarly malevolent tools. Fury sprung within him.

Exerting all his effort, he felt the magic bursting through his palm and the tools flew towards the Twins. Startled by Eragon's action, one of the Twins managed to dodge in time, but the smaller one was unfortunate. One of the long, sharp reaper tools caught him in the abdomen. He shrieked in pain.

The taller twin blasted Eragon with such a force that he propelled to the air, but only to be reigned back in by his shackles. Eragon landed face down on the floor with a heavy thud. Pleased with what he had done, Eragon smiled, but he groaned when a powerful kick broke his ribs.

"Scum!" The smaller twin rasped. He had pulled the sharp tool out of his abdomen and was now pounding Eragon's. Heavy kicks rained down on his stomach. Eragon clenched his teeth as he covered his head with his bloody arms. After a minute, whips whistled through the air and Eragon hissed in pain as it stung his open wounds. He felt his cuts widen and deepen. The whips battered his back and he could only count the slashes that continuously sliced him.

One of the Twins rolled Eragon over with magic. Breathing heavily, he stared at the ceiling with his indistinct eyesight.

"After your little stunt, we thought that another dose wouldn't hurt."

Wrenching his mouth apart, Eragon couldn't help but swallow the drug. Immediately he felt its toll and he seemed to weaken even more. If that were possible. Eragon wasn't sure how much more he could endure. A prickling sensation on his stomach and chest where cuts were scattered everywhere, caught Eragon's attention. He tilted his head forwards and saw he cuts healing.

_There were times when he healed me just so he could torture me again..._

Arya's words reverberated in Eragon's mind and his throat constricted. What methods had they prepared now? Blinking, Eragon saw a flash of glowing orange and that was all the warning he received. Scorching metal rods pressed heavily on the centre of his chest and Eragon hissed in agony. The burning metal was used for smithing but now, they used it for torture. He had to give credit to them; they truly had impressive methods.

The Twins laughed; harsh, barking sounds that reminded Eragon of rocks grinding over each other. It seemed distant to him. Pain governed his mind and body. Eragon's eye widened in shock and pain as three more burning metal burned his flesh.

"You know, he hasn't screamed or cried out for mercy even once. Very impressive, rider." One of the twins rasped. The words seemed gibberish to Eragon as the four metal rods were still pressed on his burning flesh. His legs kicked out and his whole body writhed and trembled. And yet, he still refrained from making a sound. He muffled his own groans as they pressed harder.

Invisible forces suspended his movements and he felt himself being rotated upwards. He was now standing up, his shackles restraining his hands to the side, and his feet barely touching the floor. Eragon's eyelids felt heavy and if not for the magic holding him up, he would have collapsed. Breathing too hard increased the pain, but he couldn't concentrate on nothing but the affliction.

He heard words being conversed and Eragon gasped as a sharp metal sliced his back. His chest and stomach were still sizzling and now the unhealed whip cuts on his back ripped even more as the sharp metal ripped and pierced his bleeding wounds.

"Are you starting to doubt our methods, Rider? Of course your training should be more… intense, as you are a rider. We're sure you can take the pain." One of the twins said. Eragon wanted to claw out their eyes and gut them. His tolerance was fading, only to be replaced by burning anger. "You've been drugged, physically punished, and you know what's missing?"

Knowing what was coming Eragon concentrated on his mind and mental barriers. He was on time because an invading presence attacked his mind. The force of the mental collision shook him. He trembled when he felt whips cutting his back yet again. The mental and physical attack was overwhelming, and Eragon was barely managing.

The strength of the Twin's mental probe wasn't as potent as the Durza's and Varaug's but because of his weariness and continuous whipping, he found defending his mind an extremely difficult task. But at least he could actually fight back with his mind. The physical infliction, however, prickled his concentration slightly. Eragon was amazed that his mind was still somewhat intact and that his thoughts weren't in a jumble. He battled his opponent with matching prowess and speed. They battled on the borders of Eragon's mental barriers, but he could feel the Twin's sinister thoughts and he tightened his mind stronghold even more.

Eragon suddenly felt his breath knocked out of his lungs. He met the floor with a smashing force, like that of a falling boulder. He lost his mind concentration for a full second and he erected more mental barriers as he felt the Twin's hasty presence ramming it with full force. Breathless, but very determined, Eragon mustered his remaining strength; he forced the Twin out of his mind. With the force of a howling wind, Eragon eradicated the Twin's presence. Recoiling from his attack, the Twin withdrew.

Triumphant, Eragon opened his eyes to see the Twin staggering backwards. Astonishment struck their expressions.

"Stay… out of my… mind." His throat was so dry that his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. He regretted speaking as he began a coughing fit. Blood also bubbled out of his mouth and he spat it out. The smaller twin ceased the whips tormenting Eragon's back. Grateful for the interval, Eragon took the opportunity to catch his breath. The cold floor beneath him suddenly felt warm. Perhaps maybe because his body was so thoroughly beaten that it felt cold. The twin who had invaded Eragon's mind sneered at him. "Hand me the whip, brother."

Preparing for another round of torture, Eragon closed his eyes. He needed to stay strong. This was the ultimate test of his commitment, loyalty and resistance. And he wasn't going to fail it. So, let the pain commence.

**-x-**

Floating across a vast expanse, Arya stared at the blankness ahead of her. She grew tired of this endless tedium.

If she was awake, she would've sighed. In fact, she did. Arya felt herself sighing and slowly her senses overwhelmed her. Hearing, touch, taste and smell. She could hear distinct murmurings and clinking, like glasses touching. She felt pressure on her stomach, where she felt a slowly healing cut. She could taste warm liquid seeping in her mouth and filling her with relief. She could smell the forest, her home. Unfortunately, her sight wasn't in use at the moment. She compelled them to open, but her eyelids were simply too heavy. So she wasn't in the void after all.

Gradually, Arya's breathing had slowed to a calm, peaceful rate. The pain was ebbing away. She wanted to surrender to bliss and relaxation, but a voice prickled her attention.

"She will awaken soon. Anytime." A female's voice murmured. Arya knew it was an elf's voice because of the melodic lilt to the pronunciation.

"Kaeela, if she doesn't want Saphira to escape, she must awaken soon. It has been three days." Another female voice replied, "We cannot hold the dragon any longer. She'll start breathing fire in a moment's time. If Arya is awake, I think the dragon will listen to her."

Arya listened to their words but the meaning never fully sank until after a minute. Relaxation can wait, but for now, Saphira needed her. She opened her eyes, but immediately closed them again. The light had stabbed her sight. It was painful.

"Close the curtains, Rhinea." The first female elf's voice said. Arya, through her shut eyelids, felt the brightness fade. Then, she opened her eyes again. She found herself looking up at a beautiful elf with long starlight hair, falling past her shoulders. A golden hair band held back the tresses and a warm smile greeted her.

"Arya Drottningu." Kaeela said. Arya knew she would've bowed, but since she was lying on a bed, she knew that the gesture would be awkward.

The tall, dark-haired female elf, whom Arya presumed to be Rhinea stood beside the starlight-haired elf and they both looked at her with respect and concern.

"Arya Drottningu." Rhinea greeted her. She addressed her first in the greeting but Arya was too dazed to reply. What exactly was she doing here? She remembered getting poisoned, but after that, there was nothing. Only blankness. Now, she remembered that Saphira needed her, but her muscles were too weak to obey.

Gracefully, Kaeela poured liquid onto a goblet and handed it to Arya. Not asking what it was, Arya drank it all. She felt warmness seeping through her and heightening her senses even more. She felt herself and her surroundings.

"How many days have passed?" Arya asked softly. "What am I doing here?"

"Three days." Has she really slept that long? Arya wondered at how much she had missed. "But before we can explain any more, Arya Drottningu," Rhinea paused then hesitantly said, "Could you please ask Saphira Bjartskular to stop struggling? She wants to leave but we deemed it a rash decision. We think that she will listen to you."

Arya nodded. _Saphira, whatever you are doing, please stop. _

_Elf, do not tell me what to do! _The reply Arya received was so brusque and unexpected from Saphira that she visibly flinched. Saphira sounded as if she was on the verge of violence and hysteria.

"Take me to her." Arya stood up, but her slow movements didn't catch up with her mind's speed. She staggered, but caught herself before she could fall. She realized she was only wearing a long white sleeping dress.

Kaeela took a step back to give Arya her space and the elf called Rhinea stood next to her. "Thank you for reviving me." Arya muttered. She looked at her stomach which was now smooth and no wounds were visible. She remembered having a cut at the exact spot.

"You were hurt and poisoned." Rhinea confirmed her unasked question. "Perhaps it'd be better if Saphira explained to you."

Arya nodded, "She is in distress. I need to go to her. Where are my clothes and weapon?"

Kaeela looked as if she was about to ask something, but she held her questions and nodded. She handed her materials. "Of course, Arya Drottningu. Rhinea will accompany you."

After gathering her weapons and dressing in her leather outfit, Arya made her way to Saphira, with Rhinea trailing behind her. Arya's steps were brisk and stiff. She couldn't remember what had transpired before she was poisoned, but judging by Saphira's actions she knew that it was something awful.

When Arya and Rhinea arrived at the courtyard, Arya was startled to see Saphira scratching the ground with her claws. About twenty elves surrounded her, raising their hands to calm her. Marching directly towards the sapphire dragon, she motioned for the elves to be quiet and Arya looked at Saphira in the eyes. The sapphire orbs were filled with despair and tears. Arya stroked her scales underneath her right eye.

_Saphira, calm down. Tell me what has happened._ Arya spoke to her gently. She motioned to the elves to stop their magic influence on her. Saphira visibly calmed and touched Arya on the forehead. She expected the dragon to be on a rampage after what had happened, but to Arya's surprise, even though she noted the strain in Saphira's expression, she was more composed than their earlier exchange.

_You should be fortunate that I had the tolerance not to massacre your people. _Saphira growled, her hostility alien to Arya. She attempted to calm the dragon by soothing her with calm words.

After what seemed like a full minute, Saphira's fierceness lessened. Instead, she wore a miserable expression. Her sorrow was so tangible that Arya felt tears to her own eyes. Saphira began to speak in a low, almost harsh growling.

_Eragon-_ Arya's sorrow and anxiety increased tremendously- _hasn't contacted me! He is not responding to my cries. I fear something dreadful has befallen upon him. I want to get to him. But your people are restraining me. I would've escaped but they called on the forest's strengths to hold me. Do they not realize a dragon's despair? Let me get to him… _

Saphira's voice trailed with anger and utter concern.

_I can't remember everything. _Arya said softly. _Show me your memories, Saphira. Please. I too, am concerned for him._ She feared that saying his name would elicit an unwanted emotion at the moment, so Arya didn't dare speak it.

With her permission, Saphira showed her memories to the elf. Momentarily pain engulfed Arya when she saw Eragon crouched over her limp body. His cries shook her to the core. Anguish afflicted her and she subconsciously felt tears sliding down her cool cheeks. Unexpected pain lanced through her and she felt Saphira's own concern and hers. Saphira's memories shifted forward and Arya found herself looking through the dragon's eyes. Eragon looked absolutely ragged, his hair was ruffled and his expression was one of torment yet also rage.

As she watched herself carried by him, she couldn't help but notice how he held her. His gaze lingered over her and Arya knew that if she was awake, she would've blushed under such scrutiny. Eragon and her disappeared from view, but he heard the whisper spoken carried by the winds.

_"Please live...for me." _His voice sounded contained and again, Arya knew that the feeling was mutual. She didn't want _him_ to leave _her_. It was cruel yet at the same time _not _cruel.

Arya felt herself being dragged back to Saphira's own emotions: frustration, anger, anxiety and panic. _She didn't want to see her rider become a broken and hopeless man he had threatened to transform into after Garrow and Brom died. They were just barely recovering from the death of their masters, and now one of their closest friends might die. If Arya died, Saphira knew that his rider would never be the same..._

Now the memories shimmered and Arya felt Saphira's torrent of anger and frustration that she couldn't leave the forest to save her rider. For two days, Saphira roared with the force of an earthquake and the ground trembled beneath her. However, the elves proved to be more resistant than Saphira had thought because she couldn't move as enormous invisible forces stopped her from any movements.

Then she felt Glaedr's voice and it soothe her slightly, but then she lashed out again. Glaedr's attempt had been futile; Saphira only continued to writhe and endeavoured to break free. Saphira's mind was filled with concern and a single word chanted repeatedly in her mind:_ Eragon, Eragon, Eragon. _

Arya withdrew from the dragon's mind and it took her a moment's time to compose herself. The fierce and intense emotions had battered her defences. After only recovering recently from her breakdown, she certainly did not want another one. But the rawness of Saphira's emotion and hers were overpowering. Her breathing had escalated to a point where she was clutching her chest. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and calmed herself. Opening her eyes, Arya found herself gazing back at Saphira and unison they both said his name: _Eragon._

Before Arya knew what she was doing, she walked over to Rhinea and started listing the supplies they would need. Her mind was too numb to comprehend what she was doing but her heart controlled her actions. And right know, it was being drawn to Eragon. Saving him was the most important thing, nothing would come on top of the list.

"Arya Drottningu, you have just recovered from a deadly-" Rhinea started.

Arya interrupted her and raised her eyebrow, "And?"

Baffled by her actions, Rhinea and the other elves could only stare at their princess while she gathered the supplies herself and strapped it on Saphira's back. _Where do you think he could be?_ Arya asked as she mounted Saphira. She ignored the alarmed expressions the elves' held. If she ever broke rules, it would be for _him._

_My guess would be that they have taken him somewhere near Gil'ead. _Saphira growled, _Your mother has conquered Gil'ead yes?_

_Barely. After… _Arya's voice threatened to break, but she continued, _After Oromis' and Glaedr's death, hope vanished, but their deaths seemed to anger the Elves more, and with the rage they held within their hearts, they destroyed the city and conquered it. From what my mother told me, I think Murtagh and Thorn fled. _

_So they should. _Saphira said.

_As much as I'd like to search for Eragon straightaway, we need to report to my mother. _Arya said.

Saphira growled with dissatisfaction, but reluctantly agreed.

Taking deep breaths, Arya held tight to Saphira, _Let's go._

No doubt that her mother would berate her for her actions, but that was nothing compare to the overwhelming fear she held for Eragon's welfare. There was absolutely nothing in the Alagaesia that could keep her back. Though she _knew _her actions were rash, in heart, it felt like she was perfectly sane.

* * *

_… Erm, so what do you think? *Hopeful expression* :)_

_This chapter might've been absolutely different from the earlier chapters as I didn't really change them. The first 7 chapters were written in my earlier 'writing' period and if you've read the later chapters from chapter 18-23, the writing difference is quite clear, so if my writing style has suddenly changed, then that's the explanation... _

_Thanks for reading. If you dislike the story, then please state improvements/constructive criticism, if you like the story; well, thank you. The next chapter will be uploaded shortly. :D  
_

CJ.x


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9.**

_AN:_ I don't know if there's a village in Marna (an extremely small place near Gil'ead, look at Alageasia map) but in this chapter, I just assumed there is. I might be wrong, but this village is needed for my story. Lol.

_Anyway, I hope you like it. :)  
_

_

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*****_******

Days passed but Eragon disregarded the time. His mind was blank and the pain was constantly there. Cracked lip, several broken ribs, burnt flesh and numerous whip cuts and lashes were definitely a way to keep a man feel ultimate pain. The Twins had carried out their "methods" and everyday they added something new to their so-called methods. He had been healed at some point, but the healed spot would immediately be occupied by a gaping wound soon after. He truly was being beaten to the point of death.

But despite the excruciating pain that lingered in his body and mind, Eragon took pride in the fact that he didn't beg for mercy, though he came dangerously close when they brought a barbed whip with white-hot scorching tips. Nevertheless, he didn't reveal information about the Varden, the Dwarves, the Elves, or any information about his Rider's education from Oromis and Glaedr.

Everyday, he was given scarce food; a hard roll of bread and a small glass of water. Then he was administered _triple _dose of drugs, in fear that he might again summon strength to inflict damage on the twins. They had warned him if he didn't reveal any information, his sufferings were going to be much _much _worse. But Eragon wasn't afraid. He was impressed that they hadn't killed him yet, and their patience for his silence was indeed exemplary. Their _outstanding _methods though, were creditable of some kind of award.

He almost chuckled, but his beaten ribs and sore jaw prohibited him to do so.

Time had eluded him. There were no windows to indicate what time of the day it was. He thought that he had been here for a few months, but the soldier who came to administer the drugs and food always announced what day it was and he was impressed that Eragon wasn't dead yet. Apparently four days had passed and Eragon was surprised by that. Arya had endured the Durza for months and it hadn't affected her sanity until after maybe a month. And here he was, barely making a week and his sanity was evading him. He wondered if the Durza's methods were even somehow more _benevolent _and the Twins' were just horribly beyond sickening.

Everyday, the Twins came in and warned him that he would be sent to Galbatorix soon. But the dark King apparently _loved _their methods of torture and ordered them to be more severe. Eragon had laughed at that. If it were any more "severe", he would be dead. Galbatorix had been pleased that they were able to capture Eragon, but didn't want him killed as Saphira would also be killed. She was the only female dragon left, and Galbatorix' dream was to start a new generation of Riders. So killing Eragon was indeed a dilemma but that didn't stop the Twins from beating him to the mere inch of death.

Every part of his body except between his lower abdomen to his upper thighs, which have been left unharmed, much to Eragon's great relief, felt as if it were crumbling. Lying on the floor on his side, they hadn't bothered to roll him over to his back. Eragon didn't want that anyway. It would be too painful for the open cuts on his back and he didn't have the strength to roll himself over. He felt hungry, thirsty, frustrated, angry, miserable and completely and utterly powerless. Is this what Arya had felt? His sanity was barely intact and he felt helpless. He missed Saphira so much.

Breathing raggedly, Eragon tried to sleep. In that, he at least hoped to find comfort and solace.

**-x-**

Arya and Saphira had arrived in Gil'ead after a day and a half's travel. Arya replenished herself with a sip of faelnirv but Saphira was getting agitated with every passing minute. Arya had contacted one of the elven spellcasters and authorized herself. The male elf whom she contacted was suspicious that Arya was in Gil'ead, not with the Varden and especially at the fact that she was only with Saphira, and not her rider.

_I need to see my mother, _Arya said through the link before Saphira had even descended on the ground.

The elf replied with a stronger lilting accent than hers, _Queen Islanzadi is present in her tent, Arya Drottningu. _And he showed her the path to her mother's tent. Arya thanked him and told Saphira where to go. Arya studied the city below her. It looked as if it was casted in the shadows. Sorrow was palpable in this place. Dark buildings towered over the city, but glittering golden tents brightened the area.

In less than a minute, Saphira had found the tent. The tent was situated near the heart of the city and it dwelled between two black buildings. The gold exterior of the tent and its colossal size was enough for Arya to discern that it was her mother's tent.

_I will speak to my mother first Saphira. _Arya said, as she graciously leapt off Saphira's back. Arya tightened her grip on her sword handle placed on her left hip and with the other hand; she straightened the bow on her back. She sauntered towards elves with regal dignity. Five of them stood near the entrance of the tent. They all had gold and black armour.

An elf stepped forward, whom Arya recognized as one of her mother's closest advisors and addressed Arya first. She replied tersely. She wasn't in the mood for politeness and mindless chattering. The elf then walked past Arya and greeted Saphira. The sapphire dragon growled in response and the elf took the caution and returned to face Arya.

"Arya Drottningu, when we heard that a dragon was spotted, we feared it may have been the Red Rider. But, I have to say that I was extremely surprised when Saphira Bjartskular was identified. And now that I see you instead of Eragon Shur'tugal, I wonder what has happened." The elf paused for a second, waiting if Arya would elaborate. She didn't.

The elf noted the strain on Arya's expression and bowed, "Queen Islanzadi is occupied at the moment. I will see if she is ready to welcome an audience."

Arya scoffed to herself. She was the daughter, not a mere _audience. _Arya nodded to the four elves and they bowed to her. Their dazzling armour made Arya's eyes squint, especially when the sunlight hit them. Arya looked back at Saphira who looked as if she were ready to pounce.

_Saphira, it will only take a moment, _she said.

_It better be. If we are delayed for more than an hour, I am leaving with or without you Arya, _said Saphira. Even though the sapphire dragon was still irate, she regarded Arya with respect and gentleness. Arya appreciated that, but she was getting agitated herself. A moment later, the elf emerged from the tent entrance and gestured Arya in.

Holding her head high and imposing a majestic demeanour, Arya entered. Her eyes immediately found her mother's who bore a similar resemblance to her. Even though her mother sat upon her chair, her stance and expression didn't lessen her strict streak or her perturbing gaze as she looked at her daughter. She held a surprised but also furious expression. Arya observed the way her mother's hands tightened on her chair as she approached her.

"Arya, you better have explanations for your actions." Her mother spoke, her voice a rich vibrato, "Nasuada had just informed me that you were searching for the dragon egg, but from your unexpected appearance, I think that you have not found it. Saphira Bjartskular has also surprised me by travelling here just with you and not Eragon Shur'tugal. If he is not here with her, it is clear something terrible has happened. If it was by your actions that he is not here, I fear now what would happen to the Varden as they prepare to march to Belatona. If Galbatorix has heard this news, it will be no surprise to me if he has already resolved to gather all his army and finish them off. Now tell me daughter, is this the consequence you have thought to be the outcome if something happened to Eragon?" She paused.

Arya restrained herself from clenching her teeth. Instead, she held an impassive expression, but the truth in her mother's words inflicted an invisible wound. She met her mother's stern gaze and felt her voice a weak sound compared to her mother's. "Yes, it's _branded_ in my mind."

Her mother released a tired sigh. She rubbed her temples for a few seconds, stood up and ambled towards Arya. Even though Arya was tall, she felt herself shrinking from her mother's commanding presence. Their eyes level, Arya held her gaze defiantly. The Queen arched a dagger-like brow. "I see you hold no shame or disgrace for your actions, daughter."

With that sentence, Arya snapped. The emotions she held tight broke free and filled her every living cell. "Just because I don't show shame, it doesn't mean I don't feel it, _mother_!" Arya said in a quick, bitter voice, "I know my actions have led to… inconvenient situations but I regret it. The dishonour is enough to degrade my pride but my heart…" Arya trailed, unsure of what she was even saying, and her voice went thick with emotion, "… my heart, it aches... I did not know that something inside of me could turn to be my enemy. It's frustrating!" Arya threw her hands in the air, emphasising her words.

"I was oblivious to everything around me for three days. _Three days!_ And I awake to this… dilemma. Even more, I feel broken. Now, with the shame and dishonour you have bested upon me, and the tortuous sensations stirring within me, I had hoped to confide in you, _my mother_, but seeing your reaction, I don't think you understand." A tear escaped her eye as she looked at the Queen, whose expression had softened during her speech.

Arya cleared her throat and her voice became cold and stiffly formal. "I wish to go after Eragon. He is my duty, and without him we cannot hope to succeed. You may dislike it, but my disobedience isn't new to you, is it mother?"

Queen Islanzadi flinched at her words and turned away, as if shielding whatever emotion she felt. Instantly, Arya felt guilty but she didn't yield her request.

"Let _me_ go after him. I don't trust anyone else rescuing him." Arya said softly.

Islanzadi turned to look at her daughter again, her eyes brighter than normal. It held a gleam that Arya was unaccustomed to. She ached to hold her mother, but she held her arms stiffly to the side. She had already revealed too much of her emotions.

"Tell me Arya," her mother said softly, "Do you defy intentionally or is that just your nature?"

Arya felt a small smile form her lips, "Perhaps it's both. Did I inherit from you or my father?"

Islanzadi shook her head, "Neither. Your father and I never held such passion to disobey." Arya cringed inwardly, but her mother laid her hand delicately on her shoulder. "But I admire yours… sometimes."

A small silence temporarily enveloped them, "Go after him, but I fear he may already be lost. Still, we do not abandon hope. But if you fail daughter, know that many hopes weigh upon your shoulders." Her mother always had a way boost her confidence, Arya thought, but she was pleased nonetheless that she approved, "This mission alone may prove to be your most important." Islanzadi said, "I will give you five days at the most, my daughter. We will continue to hold Gil'ead. The Varden will withhold their attack." She paused, "Everything has been put hold because of _this mission_. If you should succeed, you and Eragon must head to the Varden right away. If you fail, then we are vanquished." She finished with a solemn countenance.

Arya absorbed the information with difficulty. What she did next was unexpected, she embraced her mother.

"I will not fail _you, _the Varden, the people of Alagaesia or myself." The determination in her voice rendered her mother speechless, but she returned the gesture. "Thank you for granting approval. We will make haste."

With that she stepped back. She allowed herself to smile at her mother, an action she had thought she could never perform to her. Islanzadi smiled as well; seemingly happy with the way their talk had ended. It was a great feat; she was astonished that nothing was broken during her or her daughter's tirade. Arya and Islanzadi emerged from the tent and Arya was surprised and startled at what she saw. Saphira had clawed the concrete floor and her wings were half-unfurled, ready to shoot into the cerulean sky. The floor beneath the sapphire dragon was a hole that was big enough to build foundations for a house.

Islanzadi noted this and approached the dragon with great concern. "Saphira Bjartskular." She addressed Saphira first in the greeting. Arya hoped Saphira still held some sanity not to devour her mother. The dragon looked aggressive and she was ready to pull her mother out of harm's way if it should come to that.

Saphira growled threateningly and the elves around Arya started to unsheathe their weapons. "Hold it!" She commanded. The elves may honour the dragons, but their loyalty and hearts belonged to their Queen.

Arya contacted Saphira and with as much intimidation as she could, she said, _Saphira, how are we to search for Eragon if you are constantly this volatile? Calm yourself!_

Saphira cocked her head to Arya who tried to appear as tall as she could. Her growl subsided and Saphira dipped her head and returned the Queen's reply. Saphira's suppressed anger emanated to Arya and she touched her mother's shoulder. "We should go. The quicker we leave, the sooner we might arrive."

The Queen hesitated then nodded. "I wish you good luck, Arya and Saphira. Is there anything more you require for your journey?"

Arya asked for more food supplies, some faelnirv, clothes and blankets. For a moment, curiosity broke through Saphira's anger, _Blankets and clothes?_

She simply replied, _for Eragon. _

Saphira shrugged it off and once their supplies arrived, Arya mounted her back. She nodded to her mother and their figures suddenly became small dots as they ascended higher into the clouds.

_Where do you suggest we look first? _Arya asked as she tightened her grip. She tied her hair as it kept billowing infront of her face.

_I am the predator of the skies. _Saphira roared, _we search everywhere._

_I'm sure you are. _Arya smiled, _But we start from the nearest to us. Marna? An extremely small village is situated there, perhaps we can glean information from the villagers.  
_

Saphira wheeled in the right direction and flew in steady silence. Arya revelled the warm wind that caressed her face. She loved the sensation. And the view, it was spectacular. From the clouds, she could see almost everything. After half an hour of flying, the lazy stretch of the Hadarac Desert appeared before them. Arya squinted at the sun above them. It was scorching. She noted that they would have to stop in a shade soon. She looked below and a meagre village presented itself infront of them. Saphira began to descend, gliding towards their destination.

The silence between them was comfortable. Arya felt Saphira's emotions by gently brushing her consciousness against the dragon's. They were both anxious. Arya wondered if they would be able to find Eragon and return to the Varden all in five days' time. She calculated their journey times and she knew that she'd have to find Eragon in at least the first two days of their search.

_Land just outside the village. We don't want to frighten or alarm them lest they report to Galbatorix' soldiers. I will scout the village and try to find out any information. You can go hunt if you want. Just don't stray too far, _said Arya in a gentle tone.

Saphira complied with Arya's orders and she landed just outside the village. _Thank you, Arya, _she said. Arya bounded off Saphira's back and she strolled infront of Saphira.

_I care about Eragon as much as you. _Said Arya softly. Saphira appeared startled with the knowledge and she dipped her head.

_I trust that we'll be able to find him in time. I am grateful for your company, Arya. If my approval wasn't apparent, now I say to you; I am pleased to welcome you in our little family. _Saphira said.

Arya, in response, smiled and embraced Saphira's neck with a mild grip. Saphira hummed softly and when Arya stepped back, the dragon shot off to the sky. In high spirits, Saphira gyrated and performed stunning moves. Her magnificent blue scales shone brightly and resplendently in the sun and Arya admired the dragon's beauty. Even more, she cherished her acceptance.

For a moment, Arya watched until Saphira disappeared in the clouds, and she obliged to do her task. Arya headed towards the village. As she glimpsed the small village, she halted and altered her appearance. She hid her weapons effectively under ragged clothes. She then transformed herself; her eyes were now levelled and the tips of her ears smoothened to rounded points.

Arya greatly favoured her original appearance, but given the circumstances, she had to take a human appearance. A random deliberation crossed her mind and she pondered if Eragon preferred her human form. It would be reasonable as he was initially human himself, but then again, he was also an elf, which might favour her primary form. Arya shook her head in surprise. The thoughts she also found surprising were the personal information she disclosed to her mother.

True, her heart ached. She never had felt such trepidation and agony over someone. Her angst equalled to the sentiment she felt when she lost Faolin. She didn't want to lose Eragon either. The thought of losing him crushed her. He knew her far better than anyone else ever had, even Glenwing and Faolin. He could be extremely stubborn, but Arya furtively loved that trait of his. It reminded her so much of hers.

Arya had come to the end of the path and she observed the extremely small village infront of her. She estimated that about twenty people inhabited the place. She approached a female villager who was knitting a piece of wool. Arya was aware the other villagers' stares as she sauntered past them. Arya still felt uncertain about her appearance. She knew that she was beautiful, but so were all elves. Still, she should've been accustomed to human curiosity and observances, but there was a small part of her that felt uneasy under their heavy stares.

The old female villager looked somewhat startled of Arya's approach. Arya halted two steps away from her. She felt the villager's absorption. Her eyes took in her form and both fascination and envy flashed visibly in her eyes. Again, Arya looked at the villager coolly and mentally shrugged off her weighty gawk.

Arya was unsure how to start. She began slowly, "I am searching for someone." The villager's eyes sparked with interest.

When the villager spoke, her voice sounded raspy. "Are you a spy? If so, I must say that you are the first to stumble upon our village. Normally, no one bothers us. Of course there was that one time…" The villager trailed, her eyes still showing interest. Arya knew that she would have to elaborate on her explanation. She could probe her mind, but Arya reserved that for a later resort.

"He is someone of importance. Have you seen anything suspicious? Your help would be tremendously appreciated." said Arya, trying to keep her melodical accent unnoticed.

The villager craned her head sideways as if she was worried that their conversation would be overheard. "There was that once, when a few Empire soldiers patrolled an area of land near the Hadarac Desert. It was said that they were planning to turn our village into a watchtower, but I don't see a reason why they should. But the area near the Desert is still patrolled, the villagers nor I don't know why. Anyway, that was the only interesting news we've had for a while." The villager finished, eyeing Arya with wariness now.

Arya felt relieved of hearing the news. She had a lead. Arya looked at the villager intently and whispered words of Ancient Language. The villager nodded hazily and Arya thanked her. She had erased the villager's recollection of their encounter and without attracting any more attention; Arya charily strode out the village. To them, she had just been a passing shadow. The spell she placed upon herself had been to hide her partially. They had seen a person walking, but any attraction was deflected and they had resumed their daily tasks.

Arya strolled back to where Saphira had taken off and, after placing magical enchantments around the area, she sat on a lone boulder and patiently waited for Saphira. While she did so, Arya examined the glimpse of Hadarac Desert on her right side. She altered her appearance again, regaining her initial form. The vast, endless sand of yellow looked ominous before her and she dreaded of what would happen if they would not be able to find Eragon. Her heart again ached at the thought of him. She alleviated her pain by taking deep breaths. Her emotions which had been in turmoil in the last few days were now steadied, but the throbbing ache in her heart never disappeared. Honestly, this emotion had only started to perturb her only recently. After watching Eragon grow in experience and maturity, he had begun to affect her _differently._

Instead of viewing him as a child, her eyes had finally opened and seen some sense. She had regretted the pain she had caused him a week ago. But they both needed to focus. Or at least that was the objective, but Arya had only felt her focus slipping from her iron grip. Perhaps that was part of the explanation she had been easily defeated by the spies. Her distraught had been her demise. So, if her distraught kept her from being focused, perhaps the opposite emotion would be the solution…?

Arya shook her head. The great battle was looming infront of them with swift speed. No, she didn't need to cause him any more distraction. She decided that after they save him, she would leave him alone. To study. To focus. If he may require any help or support, she would be there, but she would hold feelings of friendship. But betraying her was her own heart. Listening to herself listing the actions she was prohibiting herself to do saddened her. Her mind, which was numb and always calculating, was different from her guarded heart. Her heart had suddenly locked itself after Faolin died, but Eragon had gradually proven to be the key.

He had slipped under her steel defences and glided into her heart with unease. She, on the other hand, had been paying no notice until she saw the fairth of herself he had made when they were at Ellesmera. How could he view her as perfection? Arya had analysed everything that might prove to keep them apart, but she realized that what she hadn't been focusing on, was the 'everything' that made them right for each other.

Arya shook her head again. Her relationship with Faolin had been perfect; maybe because they hadn't experienced serious arguments or disagreements. However with Eragon, she had endured the ups and downs of whatever relationship they had shared and was sharing. With that in mind, Arya realized that this was her true self. Faolin had loved her perfect nature, but Eragon had loved her real, flawed personality.

Unexpectedly, Arya smiled. How could he have learned to love her? Arya had sealed herself from the world. It never occurred to her that someday, someone special held the courage and patience to help her from the darkness. She was thankful for that. He had been the light; he, alone had chased whatever darkness that had resided in her. Arya felt her feelings overwhelm her to the point of heartache; he had been everything she pretended not to notice. He surpassed what everyone, and herself had expected. And he, only he, was everything she wanted.

But she could not have him.

…

Saphira had arrived when the last few rays of the sun was dimming. Her huge wings swept Arya's hair around her face. Nimbly, Arya jumped off her boulder.

_How fared your hunting Saphira? _Arya asked as she approached the sapphire dragon briskly.

Saphira responded by dipping her head, indicating that it went well. She then looked at Arya expectantly. _First thing tomorrow, we will scout the edges of the Hadarac, next to the village. _Arya said and presented her findings to Saphira.

_Perhaps they are indeed making another watchtower, but nothing ever ventures from or into the Hadarac Desert. _Saphira replied after Arya explained.

Arya shook her head, _Yes, it wouldn't be sensible. But we should check, just in case. _

Saphira nodded and stretched her wings. _Have you placed the wards around our camp?_

_Yes. No one can see us, but if they should come too near, I will be alerted._ Arya paused,_ As for tomorrow, we will scout early, when the guards patrolling the area are just beginning to arise. _Arya said. Saphira agreed.

With that, the elf and dragon prepared for a silent, but also anxious night.

…

Saphira awoke as the top half of the lazy-sun was barely ascending the horizon. She stretched and unfurled and closed her wings as she glimpsed elf-princess-Arya preparing her equipment. Arya, attuned to the dragon, turned towards her. _Good morning, Saphira. _

_Arya. _Saphira nodded. After Arya had gathered all of the equipment, erased their scent on the surroundings, she prepared her weapons and swung herself gracefully on Saphira. Without any more chattering, they went out to do their mission.

As soon as they were on air, Arya spotted a very small white watchtower made of concrete in the middle of nowhere. Saphira and Arya both shared the opinion that the "watchtower's" purpose was not for its deemed task, but rather something else. There were rocks and scarce trees scattered everywhere and Saphira swooped lower, barely camouflaging herself. She landed behind a huge rock, approximately the same size as her.

Arya spoke mentally, _I should go first, and I'll call on you if I need help._

Saphira agreed, slightly hesitant. _Be careful, alfa-kona. _Arya smiled at her and stealthily disappeared behind the surrounding boulders.

Arya crouched and her objectives flashed in her mind; Save Eragon and kill anyone who stops her from doing so. With than in mind, she rendered herself invisible, but she had to be careful of the light rays flickering across the space infront of her. True, she might not be seen, but if light should reflect on her form, it would shimmer and everyone would be alerted.

Arya took a deep breath and let the spell cloak her. Prepared, she made her way towards the small tower. To her eyes, it looked like an abandoned outpost, but her thought was quickly obliterated as soon as she spotted several Empire soldiers strolling around the tower. Instantly, she knew this was the place. It surprised her that they could find it so easily. _Must be Fate. _Arya thought to herself. She halted and studied the area. They probably had just swapped their guarding shifts and Arya noted that they were still bleary-eyed. Her eyes flickered towards the building.

The tower was robustly solid, there were several square windows decorating the building, and to her surprise, Arya calculated that she would be able to fit into one if she attempted. But her main dilemma was the soldiers scattered around the tower. Overall, there were just a dozen of them, and Arya could easily overpower them even if they had wards, but she was unsure about how many more could be inside the tower.

Making her decision, Arya neared the tower and fortunately, there were a few small boulders to stop over. Arya glanced at her trail and uttered a spell that made her feet over just a few inches above the ground. It was a useful spell, but if she didn't find a way to the entrance the magic toll on her invisibility and now the additional hovering spell would soon consume all her strength. And she didn't know how much strength would be needed to get Eragon out alive and make their escape with Saphira.

Carefully, she studied the soldier's paces and in a minute, she quietly sprinted to one boulder and uttered a small spell that made two soldiers collapse. Swiftly making her way nearer to the tower, she unsheathed her sword and killed five soldiers as they separated to do their patrol. Arya had temporarily covered their bodies and she examined the five remaining soldiers. The length of time Arya took to disarm and got through the seven soldiers was short enough that their comrades hadn't noticed their disappearances. But it was only a matter of time.

Arya paused reluctantly and studied the remaining soldiers. She noted that they had assumed that no one will even come across this place and their vigilance had considerably declined. This made it easier for Arya, because that meant that they would be unprepared for what was coming. Leaping off into the air, and unaware of the flickering form flying above them, the soldiers' breath escaped them at almost the same time. Arya brought her sharp sword across horizontally and executed the soldiers with a few deft swings. She landed perfectly, barely making a rustle. Arya removed one of her spell and her feet instantly touched the ground. She also removed the spell cloaking the soldiers' bodies. But, she kept her invisibility spell. Arya slipped behind the doors, and inside the building. Knowing that the soldiers' bodies were exposed, it might be a matter of time until another soldier might spot it.

Arya felt dark magic hanging in the air, but it perplexed her that if this place was so important, there were no wards anywhere. The only reasonable explanation she realized was that no one ever thought that this place would be discovered, thus the declined effort to guard it was understandable. There were wards on the soldiers she encountered earlier, so the person, or people supporting them, would've now noticed the drain on their strength.

There were two sets of stairs; one going up and one heading down. First, Arya observed the narrow stairs that spiralled its way upwards and then studied the stairs descending into the shadows on her right. She spotted two soldiers on the top stairs looking out into the space and before they could see the bodies below, Arya whispered words of magic and they instantly dropped to the ground. She didn't kill them, but merely just sent them to oblivious slumber.

When Arya could see no more soldiers, she hesitantly made her way to the lower stairs. She was surprised when she discovered that the stairs went quite deep. Lanterns were situated close to the walls and Arya glimpsed a soldier on the bottom of the stairs standing guard. Arya stepped back and contacted Saphira. _I have cleared the area. You may wait outside the tower if you wish, or wait where you are. Instinct tells me that this is where Eragon is kept. _Arya shook herself mentally as her voice trembled when she mentioned his name. At the goal of finding him so close thrilled and relieved her.

Saphira replied, _I am coming. I am eager to rip apart the idiots who dared to capture and torture Eragon. _

Arya momentarily froze at the mention of Eragon being tortured. She knew what she suffered in Gil'ead and horror crept into her. Eragon was a Rider, and tormenting him so he could disclose knowledge anything about the Varden, would be much more severe. Arya dreaded at what had happened to him. Through the anxiety rose a fierce, dark anger that startled her.

Arya gripped her swords and removed her invisibility spell. She replenished more energy into herself from the pommel of her sword and took the first step into the shadows.

**-x-**

Eragon flinched as the whip came down for the fiftieth on his back with a resounding crack. He bit his lip from screaming. His early infliction wasn't new to him and after they had healed him last night, they had afflicted him with fresh wounds. His body and mind was completely numb, apart from the pain of course. He had been on his knees for a few hours now as the Twins decided to come extra early to torture him. They appeared to take delight in doing so.

Eragon looked down and saw his torn pants. It was ragged, contained numerous holes, and was 'decorated' with stained blood and grime. He wore no top or other piece of clothing, but he bore scars all over his body and face. He knew that, if healed, the physical scars and his wounds would dissappear, but he wasn't so sure about the scars that had afflicted his soul. Eragon hazily watched as the Twins halted mid-strike. They stared at each other as if they had been hit themselves. Curious, Eragon observed them. Disgust quickly flashed upon their faces.

Eragon smirked, pleased by whatever was causing them discomfort. One of the twins caught his expression and he received a blow to the stomach. Eragon felt all breath rush out of his lungs and he shot out his hands and held himself upright. Eragon felt his shoulders trembling from the effort, but again, he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of collapsing to the floor. He tried to gain at least a modicum of strength before he pushed himself on his knees again. But he was surprised that the Twins, for once, had averted their attention.

"Who could it be?" The taller one rasped. Panic had slightly tinged his voice. The smaller one tossed the whip aside.

"I will go check. I felt the wards deplete. Almost all of the soldiers are dead." He said, surprised, "But don't worry, I will handle it, brother." With that, he exited the room. Eragon felt hope surging through him. He only hoped that the one responsible for alerting the twins was going to rescue him. He wanted to leave this hellhole. The taller one appeared anxious, but when he caught Eragon grinning, an expression of fury crossed his face.

"Don't be too overjoyed, Rider. My brother will kill whoever was brave enough to have ventured here."

"They are brave… and strong..." Eragon coughed. "…to have easily _slaughtered _your men."

"You're lucky that you're not the one slaughtered." The twin said.

"I might as well have been." Eragon scoffed. To his surprise yet again, Eragon didn't receive a hit, instead the Twin looked appalled. Eragon smiled. The Twin's discomfort was an indication that nothing was going well.

**-x-**

Everything was going well for Arya. She had killed three more soldiers on her way. The underground floor was like a maze. There were sharp turns and corridors leading everywhere. But she had memorized where she went and where she came out, so she easily searched the place. The gloomy corridors were wide enough for a five people to stand side by side and she wondered at how they could've built this place without her people noticing.

Disregarding the thought and concentrating back to the situation at hand, she opened her mind slightly, and searched for any sign of Eragon. Strangely, there were none.

Trepidation filled Arya as she hastily scanned the cells she walked past. She flinched everytime she saw a tortured person sprawled on the floor of each cell as it reminded her of the nightmare she had endured when she was in Gil'ead. The floor beneath her was rough and rats scurried all over the place.

Arya suddenly felt another presence searching the place and instantly she mentally attacked it. The presence was dark and sinister, but the strength of her adversary made Arya hesitant. But the tentativeness quickly dissapitated when the dark presence recoiled from her consciousness, only to ram against her mental barriers with great abrasive force. She didn't stagger, but the strength was enough to indicate that her enemy was formidable.

Arya quickly trailed the source and she felt its presence like a dark smoke. Arya skidded around a corner and she was on time to dodge a flying glint of silver. A dagger buried itself behind her and she icily stared at the person she was looking for. A black-cloaked figure stood a measurable amount of space infront of her and Arya gasped in surprise when she saw the face. She recognized the face, but the scars that were etched deep into the flesh were horrendous. Finally, she knew who she had encountered in the woods a few weeks ago: The Twins.

Arya bounded forward, as if carried by wind and attacked with her swords. She was slightly astonished at the speed which the Twin parried her attack, but Arya knew that she could overpower him.

"You betrayed the Varden." She hissed as she lunged with inhumane speed. The Twin produced a sound that was unnatural. Arya swivelled and used the walls to allow her to attack in unexpected ways. The Twin received a slash to the waist and growled at Arya.

Fully focused and alert, Arya knew that she would not be defeated like last time. She had been distraught and too confident, but now, she knew that only her distraught had been her downfall. Her confidence, however, boosted as the Twin faltered in his footing and Arya was able to break his arm with the hilt of her sword.

A blast of magic sent Arya reeling backwards, but her ward softened the blow. Relentless, she released a ball of magic and it flew towards the Twin with a startling force. Arya felt the foundations of the building shiver and she knew that it was weakening. She sprinted towards the Twin and attacked determinedly and she was rewarded when her sword met the Twin's shoulder blade and continued its way to the opposite hip. Arya uttered the words of the Ancient Language and sent the Twin flying to the wall. He slammed against it with a great force and slumped with a heavy thud. Dead.

Arya wiped her brow and tucked a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. She continued her way. Hopefully her exertions and concern would be rewarded with the knowledge that Eragon was here.

**-x-**

Eragon was dizzy with the blood loss. The lashes which had been branded deeply into his body were agonizing. He attempted to reduce the blood escaping by placing his shivering hands to the largest wound across his stomach. He coughed so much blood. He wondered if this was the end for him. He didn't want to rot in a cell. Eragon struggled to breathe and his whole body trembled from the cold stinging his flesh and the effort of remaining on his knees. Anytime now, he would faint, or perhaps die. He wanted to succumb to the solace of sleep, but he knew that the pain would be close by. Slowly, Eragon looked up, just in time, to find the Twin stagger back as if in shock.

He whispered the words he spoke, but Eragon heard them. "It cannot be. He's dead."

Despite his condition, Eragon wanted to taunt him, but he was still too weak to even produce a sound. So he managed a smile.

The force of a furious, blowing wind splintered the door and the Twin spun in rage and disbelief. Eragon felt the force whipping his matted hair backwards and seemed to have weakened him even more. But he had to know who his saviour was. It took all his strength to tilt his head. Eragon looked up to see blazing, emerald orbs staring directly at him.

He spoke softly, "_Arya._" His dwindling strength faded, and Eragon fell; into death or sleep, he didn't know. But what he did know was that Arya had come for him. Elated, but completely exhausted, he collapsed.

*******

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:)

_CJ.x_**  
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	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

_Hey guys! …_

_This chapter, I've focused quite a lot on Arya's emotions & feelings towards Eragon. There will be more 'action' next chapter as the characters will be heading back to the Varden and Arya struggling with her feelings ;) I hope you like my portrayal of the characters. Any OCCness is mine. _

_Thank you for the amazing reviews! And hello the new readers! -The first 7 chapters were slightly sketchy, but I hope to edit it sometime; it's not up to my standards and I'm not very happy with it. _

_Anyway, hope you like this chapter__. :)  
_

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_"Arya." Eragon whispered before he collapsed._

Despite the weakness of his voice, the emotional impact jarred Arya's defences so powerfully that she almost staggered.

Her relief had been momentary as sheer fury destructively pervaded her once she saw what condition Eragon was in. His bloodied face and body was all she could take. Unimaginable rage tore through her soul, her wrath uncontrollably rising to the surface.

She glared at the Twin, her focus slightly shaken by anger. She loathed the Twin, the hapless wretch. She raised her right hand and reached for her power. The Twin had been too stunned to move, let alone retaliate when he was sent flying into the wall. Arya approached him, her gait and gaze deadly. She paused.

"Where is the Tunivor's nectar?" Arya demanded.

The Twin sneered, blood coating his teeth. Arya shoved him back against the wall with her magic. "Say it, or I will crush your mind." The threat was no lie.

The Twin knew who was more powerful. His mind would be trampled upon and Arya knew this too. It was even too lenient of her to offer him such options.

"Make your choice." Arya said through gritted teeth as she stepped closer. The Twin conceded defeat and reached for something in his cloak. Arya tensed. The Twin held a small vial and he reluctantly handed it to Arya.

"He hasn't much time left." The Twin cackled, "I may die, but he will die with me!"

Furious, Arya blasted him with magic and headed towards Eragon, the vial warm in her hand. She carefully let the potion trickle into his mouth. When the last of the liquid was emptied, she set the vial aside and held Eragon in her arms.

From behind, she heeded the Twin utter incomprehensible words, and instinctively Arya spun around and lunged at him swiftly, her hair billowing behind her in a dark blur. In the process of swinging around, she grasped her slender sword and pointed it directly at the Twin.

Her elven sword pierced through the wards with smashing force and buried itself comfortably in the Twin's heart. He gasped for breath for a few seconds but soon death overcame him and his eyes glazed over. But she had been too late and the Twin's spell momentarily blinded Arya and she swivelled away. Arya didn't know what the Twin had done, but she didn't have time to dwell upon it. After the brightness faded, Arya's lip curled in disgust as she twisted her sword with a sickening squelch and yanked it out with additional force from the Twin's chest, causing him to helplessly fall to the side.

Hastily, Arya returned to Eragon's side and carefully turned him over to his back. She felt unexpected tears blurring her sight once more. She had prepared herself for the worse, but that preparation didn't numb the numerous sensations that stirred within her. Blood seeped out of his body everywhere, reminding Arya of a leaking water skin. But instead of water gushing out, it was crimson blood.

The scars that he bore made her want to absorb his pain and embrace him in all the comfort she could give him. Summoning her strength, she hurriedly started to heal the serious wounds on his arms, chest and legs. All the while she studied his face; he was so, so pale and his poor form indicated that he had not been fed very well.

He looked so frail and vulnerable; Arya fervently hoped that she had been in his position. She knew that even though the wounds would disappear, a hidden scar had been inflicted in his mind. Just like her torture in Gil'ead, the memory of this torment would forever be a constant reminder of what he had endured. "Eragon…" She whispered softly. She traced the cuts on his abdomen and the blood soaked her fingers immediately.

Despising what they had done to him, Arya turned back to the twin and driven by her profound fury, she sent the already-dead Twin flying towards the concrete walls. Although lifeless, the body met the wall with such a forceful contact that he shattered right through it with a satisfying crunch. Still, she was not content, and wanted to plough his useless corpse on the concrete floor until he was nothing more than a distinct pile of dust.

Arya took deep breaths. Her rage was recoiling and twisting, as if ready to funnel itself into a physical outlet any moment. Anger she could handle, but the burning, _scorching _emotion that was enthused deep inside her made her feel indestructible. If Galbatorix was right there in that room, all the vehemence in her would've incinerated him to nothing more than a smoke.

Arya knew she had to calm down. She hadn't experienced such a burning emotion before.

As soon as she gazed at Eragon's face, her fume subsided in the blink of an eye and was immediately replaced by such a soft, fragile yet unyielding sentiment that it threatened to break her. Her throat constricted tightly. She frowned as her breathing reduced to nothing more than a soft gasp.

It was a strange, foreign emotion that she deigned it was nothing she ever felt.

It was plausible even, if that emotion she felt, is possible… highly probable even, that it could be called _that. _Because at that perfect, apparent moment, she realized something: she would, if she could, take all the pain he ever felt and was feeling and transfer it all into her soul.

Nothing should ever harm him again.

_The _emotion ran deep, swiftly filling her very essence, her heart. As she crouched there, listening to his very faint breathing, giving him all the energy he needed, she concluded that what she felt was pure and utterly real. Progressively, and gently, she fleetingly let her hand skim the upper left side of his chest, where she knew the opposite, yet still a perfect pair of her very soul lay.

There, she surrendered her heart and conceded to the defeat she knew didn't take too long to overwhelm her:

_Love_.

Arya released her breath as the sensation finally engulfed her. She brought her hand to his wounded cheek and the flesh underneath her shivering hand immediately healed. She studied his closed eyes and the listened to the soft staccato of his breathing, now leisurely steadying.

Trembling, Arya gently pushed his dirty, damp hair from his face. She wiped the grime from his face and quickly flipping the lid of her faelnirv, she cupped his mouth open and delicately let the liquid seep into his mouth. To her surprise and relief, Eragon regained slight colour to his face and he no longer seemed very pale.

She allowed herself a small smile. The emotion that had sprung surprisingly from her soul lingered in the surface of her feelings, the love; the permanent sentiment that would now be forever present. She sighed. Her objective had been to make him focus; she failed to overlook that she was actually the one that would need to. She overcame tasks before- she dreaded, but also secretly anticipated how she would do in order to keep her feelings at bay. Love could be unpredicted in some ways yet also expected.

Arya, her hands nimbly moving from wound to wound, paused for a moment and leaned in his ear, repeating the words he had spoken so gently to her;

"_Please live…for me." _She whispered, so lightly that it sounded like a soft breeze.

Suddenly, the walls around them shook with a force and Arya spun around. Sand seeped through the walls and swiftly she broke the shackles from Eragon's ankles and wrists. She supported him, flinging his limp arm over her shoulders. Her mind immediately concentrated at the concept of escaping. Spotting his weapons, Arya hastily secured them in the straps of her outfit. Brisingr was secured tightly around her waist, along with Beloth the Wise. Aren- Eragon's ring was far too tiny and Arya didn't have any pockets to put it into, so she wore it on her finger. The cool, smooth ring easily slipped into her middle finger. Despite the danger that surrounded them now, she admired the gold ring.

The walls shook again, as if urging her to get out. She hadn't forgotten that this was an underground floor, situated deeply in the confines of the edge of the Hadarac Desert. If they were to be trapped in here, buried alive in sand, she knew that they would not be able to survive. Eragon was too weak and she doubted that she could muster enough strength to dig their way out. The weight of Eragon and the additional weapons Arya carried slowed her pace as she half-sprinted, half-walked to the staircase leading them to freedom. _Saphira, I have him. _Arya said as she headed towards the stairs.

The relief swelled between their link, and tremendous happiness emanated from Saphira. Arya closed their link abruptly before the image of his Rider beaten and near-death appearance flashed through her mind. She held Eragon's hand over her left shoulder and her right arm snaked around his back and came to grip his right waist. After what seemed like a long minute, she felt the stairs beneath her tremble violently. She swore softly, desperate to get them to safety.

Arya quickened her steps and before she knew it, they were out of the wretched tower. Saphira swooped towards them and once she saw Eragon, she roared, lashing out her tail behind her like a whip. _What they have done to him? _She growled with fury, _did you punish those who were responsible?_

_Yes, they lie dead within that building. _Arya replied quickly, _we have to get out of this area. I fear the Twins-_

_The Twins? They are alive?_

_They _were_. _Arya emphasized on the tense. _But now is not the time to discuss these things. We must fly. One of the Twins had triggered something that has caused the building to self-destruct._

Saphira nodded and Arya leapt on the saddle, securing Eragon infront of her with magic as they flew out of the area. The sound of the crashing building, echoed loudly behind them. Arya briefly spun around, glimpsing the last of the white tower fall into rubbles and dust. Her legs were strapped tightly around the saddle, but Eragon's weren't. So she held him tighter with both magic and her arms as they wheeled to the right.

The flight was rushed and swift, Arya and Saphira's anxiety both discernable through their link. Saphira landed near with a heavy thud on the ground and Arya quickly unstrapped Eragon and laid him gently on the blanket she had placed on the ground. She also placed Beloth the Wise and Brisingr next to him. Saphira spun around and studied her rider. Rage and grief appeared on her expression and she growled softly. _If those blasted twins were still alive, I would've slowly clawed out their eyes and ripped out their arms and legs. Then I would save their head for last and pummel it into pulp-_

_Saphira… _Arya warned. Her earlier behaviour would've been comparable to Saphira's. The intense anger she felt was undeniably formidable that she doubted if it exceeded Saphira's. A dragon and an elf's wrath were indeed terrifying.

Arya worked on Eragon's wounds; her actions automatic, almost instinctive. She wove intricate spells that healed him immediately. She drew strength from Saphira as well as her own preserved strength. His cuts took long to heal as they were deep and the subsided anger Arya had controlled earlier flamed back to animation when she discovered that burnt pins had been embedded into his skin.

She hid it from Saphira though, not wanting to cause her any more distress. Instead, she momentarily turned away from Eragon's body and funnelled her vehemence into a nearby boulder. It shuddered and cracked into several pieces. Saphira eyed her both with curiosity and the slightest hint of unexpected amusement. Arya didn't respond to her expression and resumed working on Eragon's wounds.

Hiding her sorrow, Arya quietly healed him. Eragon would ask Saphira how they had made their escape and her despair would be seen. She cannot allow the sentiment to be perceived by Eragon, lest he discovers she has feelings for him. But nevertheless, hiding her emotion didn't mean that she didn't feel it. She did, and it frightened her. The passion and ferocity in her at the moment were so forceful that her hands wobbled.

Arya's 'wobbling' turned into trembling as she turned Eragon carefully on his back and saw the gaping cuts that shredded almost all of his skin. No doubt that they had used a barbed whip to inflict this much damage. Beside her, Saphira shook the ground with terrifying tremors. She blinked and a tear, the size of a huge orb, fell onto the floor.

_Eragon… _she sniffed. Arya let her hand pat Saphira's leg, comforting her.

"He'll make it."Arya murmured.

_I hope he'll be the same Eragon I know when he awakes. _Saphira's gentle tone swiftly altered into a snarl, _if they had done something to change him into a walking corpse, then I would find the Twins' lifeless bodies and tear it to pieces. _

Arya's reply was only; _He would be the same. I'd make sure of it. _With that she continued with the rest of his wounds.

When Arya finished, the sun had just begun to descend, after its zenith. Arya had accomplished her plan; they had acquired Eragon on the second day of their search. Now they had three and a half days to get back to the Varden. However, she failed her other mission to find the third egg. She had glimpsed the green dragon egg with the twins last week, but she had searched every room in that underground maze and it wasn't there. Her only conclusion was that they had sent it to Galbatorix or transported it somewhere else. The loss frustrated Arya.

_Arya, I cannot feel him. I thought that after he'd be healed, our connection would re-attach…_Saphira growled, interrupting the elf's transitory reverie, _but there's nothing. I know he's not dead, but I can't seem to enter his mind…_

_Don't worry Bjarskular, I will bring your Rider back. _

Deeply concerned, Arya probed Eragon's mind gently, like a feather brushing upon flesh. To her great anxiety, no response was made. Even though Arya was poisoned with a drug, she still had been able to remain awake in her consciousness. However, when she frantically but tenderly plunged into Eragon's mind, there was nothing but pitch-black darkness. Anxiety filled her.

A piercing buzzing punctured Arya's mind and that was all the warning she received. Like a white-hot spear of flame, pain lacerated through her entire being, tearing through her defences. The magnitude of it sent her reeling and she felt her legs give way to her weight. She gasped for breath as more pain impaled her consciousness. It felt as if every nerve of her being was being struck by lightning and Arya writhed with the intensity of it. She wanted to retreat to the own sanctuary of her mind, but a force seemed to be holding her in position. An image exploded in her mind, the dull and bleakness preventing the illustration to be colourful;

_She was in a cell. The grey, miserable walls were splattered with what Arya distinguished to be blood and dread instantly consumed her. This was the same cell they were currently in at the moment. She shuddered and she found herself looking at Eragon, his face weary and agonized. His dark brown eyes swam with unfamiliarity and disgust that Arya wasn't accustomed to. She felt her senses heighten as her eyes met Eragon's. The venom in the Rider's expression was almost palpable and Arya shook her head as if she was imagining it. She wasn't. But her head didn't move with her orders. Instead, she seemed to take a few steps forward and Arya looked down on her hands. But it wasn't hers. Strange scars criss-crossed along her flesh and her nails were disgustingly sharp and dirty. But then, that wasn't what caught her attention. In her hands, she held a dark whip. _

_Panic hit Arya and she watched her hand slowly rise up and brought it down mightily across Eragon's chest. His blood splattered across _her_ face. Eragon winced in pain and he gritted his teeth. Arya desperately wanted it to stop. She screamed, but no sound came out. Instead, a rasping voice boomed in the cell. _

"_Rider, will you not say anything?" The voice spoke harshly, "Nothing to save you from more pain?" _

_Eragon spat on the floor. "You can go die in hell for all I care, you rotten maggot!" _

_Arya felt her hand rising again and the whip was brought down. Eragon closed his eyes but he restrained from screaming. The whip made a resounding crack as it met the Rider's flesh._

"_Stubborn boy." The voice said bitterly. Suddenly, Arya's perspective switched and she found herself looking at one of the twins. She flinched. Instinctively, she looked at her hands and she was surprised at the black shackles that encircled her now bloodied wrists. Her eyes raked the Twin with pure and utter disgust. Like puzzles fitting together, Arya realized; she had been looking through the Twin's eyes and now she had switched to Eragon's. Anger burned in her blood and the hatred ferociously rose to the surface. _

"_Well, let's move on to the next round of the torture." The Twin said nonchalantly as he circled Arya, which she reminded herself, was really Eragon. "Brother, come, this Rider needs some more beating!" _

_A similarly dressed man entered the cell carrying a blindingly bright piece of metal. Dread consumed Arya and trepidation stirred within her. She knew what was coming. She watched, as if she had been in his position, as the white-hot metal approached her. She heard the sizzling first before she felt the piercing pain. It seared her skin and the flesh underneath it. Arya screamed… _

…and withdrew from Eragon's mind.

… _Arya! Arya…! _Saphira's cries took a moment to register in Arya's mind. Dazed and dumbfounded, she looked at the sapphire dragon. Saphira blinked and showed Arya what happened.

Arya saw herself place her hand on Eragon's forehead, and for a few seconds nothing transpired, but Arya saw the pain flash across her calm countenance and replaced by pain. As Arya recalled the excruciation, she winced. After a few more seconds, Arya watched herself begin to tremble and without warning she screamed.

Saphira's memories shifted and Arya found herself looking through her own eyes. Grateful that she was finally looking through her _own _eyes now, Arya looked at Eragon. How did he survive the torment; the agony of being helpless and treated as if he was some whelp. It took every ounce of Arya's resistance not to touch Eragon in such a manner that would give away her feelings. It tore her to do so. Saphira flicked her tail next to her and Arya hesitated whether she should tell the sapphire dragon what she had seen. She shook her head. Eragon would tell her with his own consent.

_I still can't feel him, _Saphira said slowly, sounding slightly annoyed, _I will enter his mind if I can, but I can't seem to…_

Arya shook her head at the dragon, _I will not fail you again, Bjartskular. _

With no further prompting, Arya entered Eragon's mind yet again. The eerie silence in his mind terrified Arya. She prepared for another unexpected memory, but nothing came. So her presence lingered on the boundaries of Eragon's mind and Arya cautiously entered the Rider's mind.

Nothing had ever surprised her more. Eragon's mind was now filled with _light. _Pure, soft, tender light. The brightness was everywhere and warmth streaked through Arya. It was as if Eragon's whole consciousness was the light and steady pulsing emanated from him. Unsure, Arya paused in her tracks and gently probed the light. Eragon's presence exploded within her with such ferocity that she momentarily had to shield with her barriers.

_Arya! _Eragon's voice echoed in her mind.

Beyond relief of hearing his voice, Arya kept her defences a few seconds longer as her emotions overwhelmed her. After composing herself, she receded her barriers and approached the sound of Eragon's voice and psyche.

_Eragon? _Asked Arya gently.

_You came! _Eragon exclaimed, his gratitude emanating to her in immense waves. Arya felt some restrained emotions behind Eragon's own barriers but she didn't question him.

Curious that she could reach him, but Saphira couldn't, Arya concluded that only the Rider and Dragon's bond were disengaged. _I need to fix your link with Saphira, Eragon. _

Eragon's response was deafening, _Saphira! _

Arya felt Eragon's consciousness searching for his dragon, but when frustration and ire filtered through their link, she knew that he couldn't feel Saphira.

_The Twins must've severed your link. _Arya informed him, keeping her voice steady. Mentally conversing with Eragon was difficult as her emotions threatened to rupture out of her. Eragon, fully focused on Arya's presence now, seemed to observe her with acute intensity that made her self-conscious.

_Thank you for coming to save me, Arya. _Eragon said softly. In response Arya's presence softly brushed against his. Instant regret at what she had done, Arya subtly moved away from his consciousness and went on to search for their link. She needed to fix it immediately. Being in Eragon's mind elicited unexpected emotions and caused unwanted reactions from her. But she noted the lure of Eragon's mind.

The attraction to it was stronger than Arya had anticipated and it took all of her strength not to fall into the ensnarement. Arya had an irresistible urge to succumb to it. Elves' mind had certain magnetism; it was a part of them, and Eragon's pull distracted her more than it should have.

_I never knew that a Rider and a Dragon's link could be severed. _Eragon commented. Arya wasn't familiar with it either, but from the scrolls she had read, she knew that it could happen.

_It rarely happens, but the detachment only lasts temporarily. Nothing is powerful enough to break a dragon and a Rider's bond._

Finally finding the dragon and Rider's link, Arya repaired it with complicated spells. The Twins certainly made it difficult as Arya took her time to remove the intricate patterns. She felt Eragon's presence surrounding her, as if he had circled her. She didn't dare turn around.

_Why can't I wake up?_ She heard Eragon ask with dismay.

_Your wounds are too critical. I concocted a potion that prohibits you to wake up for a while as it helps you rest and heal quicker than usual. _

Warmth blossomed from Eragon and Arya had trouble trying not to react to it. _Thank you again, Arya. _

_You're welcome. _

Eragon remained silent for a while as Arya finally finished repairing it. Instantaneously, Saphira's presence filled Arya's and Eragon's mind. Beyond elation, Saphira and Eragon's presence embraced each other. Feeling as if she was intruding on something extremely private, Arya withdrew.

Once she was back to her own mind, Arya opened her eyes. Eragon lay motionless infront of her, but she knew he was awake inside. Arya gently probed Saphira's mind. _Tell Eragon that he will wake up in twenty four hours._

_Thank you alfa-kona. We owe you. _Saphira beamed with such happiness that Arya smiled in return.

_You are my friends. _Arya said gently, _I will leave you two to catch up. I'll just go patrol the area for a while. _Arya said as she stood up.

Saphira nodded.

Taking one last look at Eragon, Arya clamped the emotions that rose to the surface again. She needed to keep her emotions in check. Walking away from the camp, Arya strolled around their area. She stopped over by a boulder and surveyed the sunset. Sighing, she absorbed the magnificence of it.

She was exhausted from her exertions, but it had all been worth it. They had saved Eragon. But the burgeoning sense of warmth upon seeing the young rider confused her. Even if she should deny it, she knew that her feelings for Eragon had far exceeded those of friendship. She wouldn't allow herself to reveal it though. Too much were weighed upon them. Neither he nor she could change their roles. She was pledged to the Yawe; she had irreversibly promised to put her race first before any other and she would die for the greater good of it. The bonds which she held were unbreakable. _But then again, so was the concept of love. _A voice chided inside her head.

Arya rejected the idea immediately and determinedly. Nothing or _no one_ should ever come first. Long ago, Arya wouldn't have accepted this idea, but she had promised herself in Gil'ead that she would not rest until the Dark King was vanquished.

Long ago, she had promised herself that her heart would only belong to Faolin. She had promised herself that and to abide her duty. How had she done both? But still, she undertook the Yawe, fully acknowledging and accepting the consequences and burden that entailed it: she would have no time for anything else apart from her contractual obligation. It was her sole target: duty for her people.

Arya kept this in mind, and ignored the smouldering sensation from deep within her heart, protesting to her thoughts. She would regain her honour… even if it meant breaking her own heart.

**-x-**

_(Eragon's POV during the healing)_

Eragon's mind swirled with disjointed and incoherent thoughts. The pain that had been inflicted upon him tortured him to the point where it was branded into his soul. He would forever remember those haunting memories. He felt as if his very being had been torn into two. He felt incomplete, as if a part of him had died. Like a shroud, he covered his mind with darkness. He had no drive to get back into the real world. Dreams hurt enough, how much more would reality ensure?

Eragon retreated deep into the confines of his mind and remained there. Eternity could come to pass and he wouldn't even notice. He would be safe here… _safe_…

…

Eragon came alive as a hauntingly familiar presence pervaded his senses. The unique melody of her mind echoed to his, making everything in him respond. Unfortunately, her presence awoke the memories of unfathomable torment inside of him. Pain ruptured in his mind and body as he recalled the memory:

… _The whip came down with a cruel whistling sound, and the sound it produced when it met his flesh was repulsive. Eragon stared into the eyes of the Twins with murderous intent. If he was released from his shackles, he would be more than happy to welcome the opportunity of striking the heartless bastard and afflict the same pain he had to him. As the whip branded his flesh again, he bit his bottom lip from screaming. They should receive no satisfaction from him. _

"_Rider, will you not say anything?" The Twin smirked, "Nothing to save you from more pain?" _

_Defiantly, Eragon only pursued to insult the revolting creature infront of him by spitting on the floor, "You can go die in hell for all I care, you rotten maggot!" _

_Eragon's fists balled as the whip seared his flesh deeper. It brutally stung, but Eragon refrained from making any noise. He was still proud of that feat. He had not screamed or cried out, not even once. _

"_Stubborn boy." The twin said bitterly. Eragon only leered at him scathingly._

"_Well, let's move on to the next round of the torture." The Twin said nonchalantly as he circled him. "Brother, come, this Rider needs some more beating!" _

_The other twin entered the cell with a spiteful expression, carrying a flaming piece of metal rod. Eragon masked his face stoically, but terror gnawed at him. His earlier wounds were still gaping and bleeding. This sweltering, vicious tool would no doubt burn, perhaps liquefy his skin and would then be left blistering. Nevertheless, Eragon raised his head boldly and prepared himself. As soon as the white-hot metal kissed his flesh, Eragon gasped. It scalded his skin with such intensity that he forced his eyes to close and hide the pain... _

Immediately, Eragon obliterated the memory. It was gone in an instant, and replaced by light. Blinding, yet gentle light. The warmth of it invited Eragon in and he merged his presence with it. Instantly, he became the pulse of the illumination and he embraced it. Silence enveloped his mind and he enjoyed it.

Suddenly, the familiar presence entered Eragon's mind again. The vastness of the entity surprised him, and the scent of crushed pine needles immediately pervaded his senses and awoke him. This time the presence registered itself in Eragon's mind as it drew closer.

_Arya! _Eragon's voice echoed in her mind. Her presence alone soothed him, and for the first time in days, his mind felt invigorated by the pureness of hers. Eragon's memories flashed before him, and he remembered now. Arya had come to save him. That thought alone sent him to the pinnacle of happiness.

Eragon felt Arya's barriers lower as she heard her voice. _Eragon? _

That voice. Her voice brought back his sanity and Eragon's presence search for hers. The throbbing emerald light in his mind acted like a beacon and he raced to it, cherishing her presence in his mind.

_You came! _Eragon exclaimed. He didn't need to reveal his gratitude as it already pulsed from him in enormous waves. Emotions ran deep inside him, causing his heart to feel as if it was swelling. Besides the gratitude, the love he held for _his _princess was overwhelming. He quickly hid the emotion as Arya approached his presence nearer, some of her consciousness brushing against his.

_I need to fix your link with Saphira, Eragon. _

_Saphira! _Eragon yelled. His dragon. How could he forget her? The Twins had twisted his mind, diminishing his bond. That was why Eragon felt alone. As if the other part of him had died and the incompleteness scared him. Frantically, Eragon searched for his dragon's link, but he couldn't feel her. _Saphira! _No response was made, and fury levitated inside of him.

_The Twins must've severed your link. _Arya informed him gently.

Eragon heard her voice and it took a few seconds for it to register in his mind. Damn those twins. Helpless he could do nothing about it, Eragon fully turned all of his focus and concentration on Arya. He observed her with such a sensitive clarity that he swore he felt Arya retreat slightly, as if she half-turned away from him.

_Thank you for coming to save me, Arya. _He said softly. Unexpectedly, Arya's consciousness brushed against his lightly, and Eragon shivered at the intimacy of it. But in that action, he felt Arya's response; that she had been more than happy to help. From the fleeting touch, Eragon had also discerned that it was out of friendship and not duty that she had come for him. He appreciated that and it only made him love her more. Eragon felt Arya's presence study him for a meanwhile and he was just as curious of hers. He hadn't been encircled by her presence like this since their first encounter.

The vastness and serenity of her mind hadn't changed, Eragon noted. But sorrow was perceptible in her mind and so were the tightly guarded emotions she kept to herself. The melody of her mind was still as beautiful as Eragon first heard it, if not, even more appealing as it had once been.

But the lacking feeling of his heart and mind pervaded Eragon. Saphira, his dragon… where was she? He missed her so much. The longing inside of him tugged at Eragon's heart with such force that it ached.

Eragon said, _I never knew that a Rider and a Dragon's link could be severed._

_It rarely happens, but the detachment only lasts temporarily. Nothing is powerful enough to permanently break a dragon and a Rider's bond._

Eragon felt Arya's presence linger around his mind. She heard her chanting words of the Ancient Language. Eragon caught the thread and he watched and listened in amazement. His presence surrounded her, keeping watch of her progress. Arya's presence was light and graceful and her mind was so, so vast. Countless memories floated in her mind and Eragon respected them by avoiding to brush against them. Memories were precious and she didn't dare intrude Arya's without her consent.

Eragon tried waking up, but found he couldn't. It was as if some force repelled him to do so. _Why can't I wake up?_ He asked.

Arya's reply was not long in coming. _Your wounds are too critical. I concocted a potion that prohibits you to wake up for a while as it helps you rest and heal quicker than usual. _

Eragon's gratitude burgeoned and he said, _thank you again, Arya. _

_You're welcome. _

Eragon remained silent as Arya finished her spell and mended the link. A warm light seemed to have seeped into Eragon's soul. Instantaneously, he felt his heart and mind whole again, as a vast presence entered his mind. The convergence had the impact of a wave meeting a boulder.

_Eragon! _The presence engulfed him in a comfortable motion. The action was so familiar that Eragon found it almost unbelievable that he hadn't remembered it. Saphira's presence enveloped his and he, hers. The reunion repaired something in Eragon's heart and he felt more alive than ever. _I've missed you, little one. _Saphira cried, her emotions emanating from her in huge ripples.

_Saphira… _Eragon murmured as he relished her presence. He felt his dragon momentarily converse with Arya and he paused quizzically.

Saphira's presence returned after a few seconds. _Alfa-kona said that you will be able to wake up after twenty four hours. She has done very well, Eragon. _

_Beyond that, _he replied, _I owe her and you my life. _

Saphira disagreed slightly, _I was helpless, it was she who has done most of the work. And for that, I owe her too. _

Eragon and Saphira remained locked in each other's presence. In both mind and heart, he felt them fully fusing as one now.

_I love you, Saphira._

_And I you, little one. _

Eragon felt a shift and he felt Saphira flicking through his memories. He did the same to hers. They both watched in silence as they swapped their memories, but when Saphira stumbled upon the memories of his torture, she keened a mournful wail.

_What horrors did they do to you? _She thundered.

Eragon winced but he buried himself deeper into her thoughts. _It matters not now. I am here. _

Saphira's anger lessened, but to Eragon it didn't seem to reduce. _Little One… _

_I am sorry- _Eragon began but Saphira cut him off abruptly.

_You have nothing to apologize for. But if you hadn't been stubborn and not ventured into the Spine… _she sniffed.

Eragon _almost _chuckled. _I am glad to be back with you Saphira. The days I spent in that cell… _

For the next minutes, Eragon and Saphira conversed with just images and emotions as they shared each other's sorrow of temporarily losing each other and the profound joy of reuniting. Eragon had glimpsed her memories, her anger and frustration at not being able to do anything. She had felt helpless, a rare sensation for a dragon. But as they lay there in quiet contemplation, understanding filtered through them. The momentary separation had again taught them to survive with each other, but such feeling shouldn't be frequent. A dragon and a rider must not suffer without each other.

But as Eragon spiralled into a peaceful sleep, he knew that the separation had only strengthened their love and connection stronger. Nothing would ever tear him and his dragon apart anymore. She was his solace, and he needed her as much as she needed him. Without each other, they were just a half of a being: incomplete.

He heard Saphira's words echo in his mind, _rest little one, for you need it… I will be here when you wake… sleep… _

**-x-**

Arya made her way back to their camp in silence. Her earlier reflection had calmed her racing heart but also evoked an unpleasant feeling. Nevertheless, she had made her choice and it was going to stay that way. For how long, she didn't know.

As soon as she neared their site, Arya felt Saphira's mind, acknowledging her. When she came into their area, Arya yelped in surprise as Saphira pounced on her. For a brief moment, she had thought the sapphire dragon lost her sanity and decided to have her for a snack, but when amusement and profound emotions radiated from her, Arya was relieved at the comprehension that she was not going to be eaten.

_Saphira. _Arya said, trying to sound stern, but it came out as a light-hearted rebuke.

_I never thought I'd say this to any other creature, Arya, but I am indebted to you and any request you make, I will follow. _Saphira said, much to Arya's surprise.

_Well, _the elven princess said, squirming underneath Saphira's claws, _for a start, maybe release me. _

Snorting in laughter, Saphira complied and removed her bulky weight off Arya. _Sorry for attacking you alfa-kona. I don't know how else to express my appreciation for what you have done for me and Eragon. _

Arya nodded, and then smiled. _You're welcome, Saphira. _She straightened herself, _how is Eragon?_

Saphira hummed happily, _Eragon is asleep – _Arya glanced at the young rider who was peacefully lying on his back, his face an expression of complete and utter serenity – _He is also beyond grateful for what you've done. _

_I'm glad. _Arya commented and took her eyes off the rider. She seemed to possess a major difficulty at wrenching her elven eyes from him.

Arya stood in silence as she watched the blazing yellow sun leisurely descending down the horizon. Its last resplendent rays washed across their camp, bathing them in its warmth. Saphira's scales shimmered as the sun caught them. At that moment, she glanced at her companions and kept the perfect image in her mind.

After a few more precious moments of warmth, the sun lowered considerably and the light around them seemed to have dimmed. Walking over to Eragon, Arya carefully checked that all of his cuts were healed, even the smallest of all blisters. Noticing the grime on his face, Arya subconsciously reached for her pack and took out a bowl, filled it with lukewarm water, grabbed a clean, fresh cloth and soaked it.

Furtively, Saphira observed the _elven-princess-Arya_ as she wiped Eragon's face with the white cloth. She carefully dabbed Eragon's skin, removing the dirt from his face. Between her movements, the sapphire dragon noticed the tenderness in the elf's eyes and actions. Smiling, Saphira resumed observing the _two-legged-pointed-ears_ as she cleaned her Rider.

Saphira noticed that the elf hadn't noticed her observance and continued her task without being aware of the dragon's scrutiny. As she watched the elf, realizations dawned on Saphira, but she paused. She needed confirmation if _that_ was how the elf princess felt.

Daring to intrude on her dream-like trance as Arya looked at Eragon, Saphira nudged her on the the shoulder. The elf jumped.

Saphira had trouble keeping the interest out of her tone when she asked, _I would not ask it of you if he didn't need it, but evening will come soon and the bitter chilly air from the Hadarac will be upon us; Eragon needs change of clothing. _

Arya instantly jolted as if she had been electrified.

Amused by her reaction and confirming her doubts, Saphira snorted, but lingered on the topic; _Well you did bring a set of clothes didn't you? _

Arya did, but she never really let the notion of dressing him sink into her mind. She had thought he would be the one to do it, but glancing at Eragon's motionless -and now fully aware of it- his half-naked body, Arya knew that he wasn't going to wake up anytime soon. And what Saphira said was true; the chilly winds from the Hadarac would sweep across their camp soon: Eragon's currently torn and blood-stained pants were the only clothing he wore. He would be cold. Quietly, Arya walked over to Saphira's saddle and took her pack, her expression blank.

_I will put on his tunic, but I have extra blankets to cover him if he gets cold. I don't think I need to… erm… _Arya glanced at Eragon's tattered trousers again and was at a loss for words.

Unexpectedly, Saphira jetted a twelve foot length of blue fire. Arya shielded herself from the momentary heat and realized that Saphira was actually _laughing. _Frowning, Arya gave the dragon a quizzical stare.

_I have never seen you so uncomfortable before, alfa-kona. And to think that you were only going to change his clothes… _Saphira chuckled.

Arya felt the blush colouring her cheeks and she turned away. _I will not want this mentioned to Eragon, _she said firmly.

In response, Saphira seemed to laugh harder. The initial embarrassment turned into a slight discomfort, and Arya busied herself and yanked the dark blue tunic from her pack. Arya could still hear Saphira's amused chortles in the background and she ardently wished that the dragon would not pick up on Arya's now-thrilled sensation at the thought of having to dress her Rider.

Walking briskly over to his huddled-figure, Arya sat next to him. She touched his surprisingly warm arms and raised them over his head. Saphira's amusement emanated to her in large waves and Arya wondered at what was so entertaining. She was a dragon and what interest would she have in this 'situation?'

Arya almost coughed when Saphira jetted another round of blue flames. Arya turned to the dragon, plainly agitated now. _What is so amusing? Because I don't see it. _

Saphira shook her head rather vigorously. You_ don't. _I_ do, _Saphira said, _I'll look away if it makes you feel better. _With that, the sapphire dragon veered its head away.

_I would appreciate it more if you _fully _turned around. _Arya suggested impatiently. Saphira laughed again, but followed her suggestion and left the elf in peace.

Arya turned her attention from Saphira to Eragon. Her fingers were softly curled around his warm wrists and Arya took one hand away and grabbed the tunic. Leisurely and easily, Eragon's arms easily slid into the tunic. Gently, Arya snaked her right hand around the back of Eragon's head and lifted it as she pulled the tunic down. Feeling oddly out of character, she let her left hand trail from his neck to the centre of his chest. She was intrigued by the firm muscles underneath her hand and she yearned to trace the hard planes of his body with her fingertips.

Catching herself, Arya shook her head and was beyond glad that Saphira hadn't caught her. Quickly pulling his shirt all the way down, Arya removed her hands away from his body. She felt her cheeks burning. Before she would do anything else unexpected, Arya grabbed another thick blanket and wrapped Eragon safely and warmly.

She also took her faelnirv bottle and let the liquid enter his lips. In the process, Arya's thumb grazed his lower lip and she almost shuddered at the sensation. Arya was truly out of her mind. Hating the way her body reacted, she tried holding an expression of impassiveness in hope to restrain her body reactions.

At that moment, Saphira turned around and looked at her. _So you finally dressed him? I must say, it took you a while. _She noted and mirth tinged her voice.

Arya stood up suddenly and walked over to the saddle and grabbed another bag. She didn't reply to Saphira's earlier comment and said, _I will keep giving him faelnirv and when he awakes, he can have the rolls of bread.  
_

Saphira nodded_. And as soon as Eragon regains consciousness tomorrow, we will fly back to the Varden. _

Arya nodded in agreement. She studied the sky, which was now dimmed and the sun was disappearing behind the horizon. Night time was approaching them and Arya began to unroll her elven sleeping bag. She gave Saphira a sideways glance, _I am tired Saphira, so I will go to sleep now, but if you need me, just wake me up. _

Saphira nodded as she folded her wings and yawned. _I too, am exhausted. Goodnight Arya. _

Arya curled up in her sleeping bag, _Goodnight Saphira. _

Arya prepared herself to sleep and laid down, sinking to the softness of her own blankets. As she studied the beautiful constellations above, Arya felt Aren in her finger. She transferred her attention to the golden ring and traced the Yawe branded on it. She faltered. It reminded her of her duty and Eragon. She hesitated if she should return it to him now, but as she observed the ring, she decided that she would keep it for the night.

She turned to her side and found herself looking at the young Rider. He appeared so serene that she wanted to join him find that solace of peace. She closed her eyes, and everything around her disappeared, but Eragon's image remained in her mind.

**

* * *

**

_CJ.x_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11.**_

* * *

Nasuada observed the men in the pavilion. All her subjects consisted of her human generals and dwarves. Blodhgarm stood by the corner of the tent, quietly observing, along with several of her Nighthawk bodyguards. Nar Garzhvog and the Urgals were situated outside. The rest of the Elven spellcasters were free to do what they wished, but Blodhgarm always 'chose' to be present at all of her meetings. _For the purpose of his attendances,_ Nasuada thought, _were all to be reported to Queen Islánzadí._

Nasuada sighed quietly. She tried to hide her exhaustion by propping her weight on one side, trying to appear dominant instead of weary. Let the meeting begin, her third of the day.

"Lady Nasuada, have there been any reports on the Dragon Rider and the Elven Ambassador?" One of her generals asked and she noticed the strain of politeness on the man's tone. They were getting considerably impatient with the lack of report of their progress.

"We have not yet received news from neither Arya nor Eragon, but Queen Islanzadi has made me aware of their circumstances." Nasuada said, recalling the Elven Queen's explanation.

"_The most unfortunate news, Lady Nasuada." Islanzadi began solemnly. "Our rider has been captured." _

_Shock gripped Nasuada, then fear. What stand did they have against the Empire now? "How was he captured?" she asked. _

"_My sources informed me that he had been captured by the Twins-" Anger flashed across Nasuada's countenance, "-whom were surprisingly reincarnated through the means of dark magic."_

"_Impossible..." Nasuada murmured. _

"_I truly believed that such occurrence was unattainable, but it seems that Galbatorix has developed more twisted inventions which I dare not fathom. He has exceeded his own monstrosity." Islanzadi said with visible disgust, "However, Eragon is believed to be alive, but only barely. If he is imprisoned, then I cannot imagine the torture being inflicted to gain information from him. A Rider even has limits to rigorous torment."_

"_I fervently hope he is alive. I do not think we can cope with yet another Rider's death." _

_From the other side of the screen, Islanzadi raised a brow. "You know of Oromis and Glaedr?"_

"_Eragon informed me." Nasuada said softly then said with a hint of allegation, "But I had hoped that I was at least enlightened of this Rider's existence." _

_Nasuada felt the Queen's mood shift from her position. The Elven queen was so very swift in mood change that sometimes Nasuada found it frustrating. "Although we are Allies, Nasuada, I, we- the Elves, cannot hope to entrust such significant secrecy. It is our burden to bear."_

_Nasuada wanted to protest, but she held her tongue. The Elves were an important ally and angering their leader would make their alliance more fragile._

"_What of Arya?" Nasuada asked. Islanzadi seemed genuinely startled for the sudden change of topic, but she replied._

"_She had been tracking the egg for a few days, as was her assignment, which she informed me that she asked of you." Nasuada nodded, as if to confirm it. Arya indeed asked to locate the egg and with her permission, she did._

"_Her mission brought her to Carvahall and she was soon met by Eragon." Islanzadi paused, as if conflicting what to say. "Before I continue, pray tell, what compelled you to dispatch Eragon after Arya?" _

_Nasuada straightened. "For purposes that Eragon was acutely insistent upon." _

_Islanzadi appeared to contemplate something. She murmured something in the Ancient Language that Nasuada couldn't comprehend. Then, transferring back to the normal tongue, Islanzadi said, "Although it may have seemed to be reasonable to permit Eragon and Saphira to depart, I wish that you had not let them, Nasuada."_

"_As Eragon's vassal, I saw it acceptable to do so." Nasuada said tersely. _

"_And I respect your judgement. I just wished that you had not let them," said Islanzadi, "Now then, I will continue with my narration. Arya tracked the egg, and she believed that the 'strangers'- for she did not know they were the Twins at the time- were ferrying the egg to outlying villages, in hope to get it to hatch."_

_Nasuada was about to question why, but she saw the logic. "The dragon egg was kept within Uru'baen. Galbatorix must have tried to get it to hatch, but it did not hatch for anyone within his city."_

"_So he sought to see if it hatched for anyone outside his city." Islanzadi nodded. "He must have been desperate; to let it out of his reach."_

"_Indeed," was only Nasuada's reply. _

"_Arya's last report to me was that she was going to intercept the Twins, and that was when Eragon convened with her, I presume." Nasuada tilted her head in confirmation. _

"_For whatever reasons Arya refused to impart, she and Eragon separated temporarily. Shortly after their partition, she came across the Twins, whom she misjudged and they overwhelmed her. She was severely injured and poisoned." Islanzadi spoke softly. "She would have died, if not for Eragon's intervention."_

"_It is fortunate that we left a few healers in Ellesmera, otherwise she would not have lived." Islanzadi paused, "Eragon chose to stay behind and Arya to be ferried to Ellesmera."_

"_Ever so stubborn," Nasuada commented quietly, thinking how Eragon could be reckless in his actions sometimes. Islanzadi gave no indication that she heard Nasuada's remark and continued her recounting. _

"_What happened with Eragon, I know not but he will have to recount exactly what happened to get himself caught. After recovering in Ellesmera, Arya reported to me here; Saphira was with her although she was sorely distressed. I dispatched them earlier today."_

"_Arya and Saphira had to make haste and I have taken the task, as Arya could not do it herself, to account to you what has transpired."_

"_Thank you." Nasuada said cordially. _

"_I have given Arya five days to complete her mission to rescue Eragon from the Twins. How she will find him, I know not, but I fervently hope that they will arrive there in time for your siege in Belatona." Islanzadi changed her fierce expression to a gentler one, "I ask you to hold your army to the greatest extent of days. I will hold my army in Gil'ead. To march from here to Uru'baen with the army will take over a week. As soon as you have taken Belatona, we will begin to advance to the dark city." _

_Nasuada nodded. "What if they are delayed?"_

"_If they are indeed delayed, I suggest you convince your generals and the dwarves to stay put. Unless you think your army is capable of laying siege to Belatona without Eragon, Saphira and Arya, which I doubt you will as Galbatorix will have situated more spellcasters, perhaps more formidable ones in the city. Blodhgarm and his spellcasters may be able to match them, but you need Eragon and Saphira to have a higher likelihood of succeeding." _

_Nasuada agreed. "Then we will wait." _

And so they were. Occasionally, she received reports from the Elves, but most of them were of less significance. Until Eragon, Saphira and Arya returned, no news were notable.

"What mission are the Shur'tugal and the elf truly implicated with?" The same general, who had asked the earlier question, persisted. The tips of his dark moustache bobbed up with his speech.

Nasuada inhaled. This was the question she was avoiding to answer her generals but gradually they had wanted to know more. The only answer Nasuada has divulged to them was that they were on a mission to find the third egg. She and Islanzadi had both deemed it appropriate that Eragon's capture to be kept in secret, although with a few exceptions like Blodhgarm and the other Elven spellcasters.

"Since Arya has not reported for a while, I truly do not know." Nasuada replied, half-answering the general's question.

"How long are we to stay put without our Rider?" Another general asked.

"And the Red Rider can appear anytime!" A dwarven official growled.

"But he has not." Nasuada said in a clipped tone.

But it genuinely surprised Nasuada that Murtagh and his dragon had not taken advantage over the absence of Eragon. Instead it seemed the opposite; the Imperial army were 'silent'. That fuelled Nasuada's fear more than anything else. It was so unnatural that they have not once even defended an assault or a raid from the Empire.

One of the generals spoke out, "Our scouts have reported that Belatona's numbers in warriors are weak. We could overwhelm them with the size of the Varden army. I say we are capable of conquering the city without the help of a dragon Rider."

There were mixed reactions. Cheers and agreement were voiced but so were disagreements.

"I have seen their number, their defences are weak!" A few 'aye's' rang out. Then argument broke out and Generals began to shout and bark at each other. Nasuada allowed it momentarily, for she wanted to hear their opinions, although she wished they did it in a more civilised manner.

"We cannot hope to conquer a city without Eragon and Saphira... we should only march in battle when we are certain that we achieve victory."

"Yes, defeat would be a smashing blow to the Varden and we cannot afford to risk it."

"Every battle is a risk!"

"Yes, but this battle could prove to weaken us if we lose. I say we wait for the rider!"

"This siege could also prove to strengthen us. We have been idle for days!"

"We could use this time to recruit and train more men... the Empire are not attacking and there are no signs that they wish to." Nasuada agreed with the thought. But then the argument became more incoherent and consisted of idiotic grumblings and remarks that Nasuada had to intervene.

"Silence!" She shouted. She would have spoken in a quieter tone, but with these men, she had no other choice but to bellow for she would not be heard if she didn't.

Before Nasuada could utter her next words, a messenger scurried the room and stood by her side. "Lady Nasuada, we have received news from Lady Arya of Ellesmera and she is requesting your attendance."

Nasuada immediately stood up, her reaction echoed by her sentry of guards. "We withhold the army." Nasuada declared, ignoring the quiet disagreements. "General Arnak, I suggest you use this time to train more men. Dismissed," she announced.

"Lead the way." She said to the messenger as she exited the pavilion, followed by her Nighthawks.

_Into Her Dreams._

_...Arya watched in horror as the human's body popped and cracked, rearranging in places she never thought possible. The furious howling of the wind and the human's eventual transformation to the similarities of Durza sickened her. The abrasive spirits swirled in a vortex around the room and the air hummed and crackled like lightning, filling the human with their violent presence. A sour, iron like taste coated Arya's tongue, and her skin prickled. _No, no, no... not another Shade. Not after all we've been through..._ Gripped in momentary fear, Arya could only stare as the Shade slowly arose. _

"_Get out! Go!" Arya shouted to Lady Lorana who had been screaming during the process. She didn't need to be told twice and left the room. _

_Arya glanced at Eragon who had been about to attack the female spell caster but he collapsed and was now lying on the floor. Saphira, likewise, was also inert at the other side of the room. She hoped that they would soon snap out of whatever trance they were in. The female spell caster smirked in triumph as she observed the Shade. She then turned around, a naked sword in her grasp as she stepped infront of Eragon's insentient body._

_Instinctively, Arya leapt forward and brought her sword down vertically, slaying the female. Fleetingly, she gazed at Eragon who showed no indication of moving. She nudged him gently, "Eragon, wake up!" There was no response. _

_Arya cursed. She turned to face the Shade who was now fully standing up. She gripped her Elven sword, situating herself infront of Eragon protectively. She stepped forward, her Elven blade on her left hand, ready to attack. Swiftly, she pounced forward, aiming to slice the Shade's chest. But she underestimated his speed and the Shade flicked her sword aside like a wooden stick. _

_Arya gasped as the Shade held her tightly by the neck and squeezed. The Shade's mind invaded hers destructively, nearly obliterating all of her defences, but fortunately, she was on time and was able to oppose the assault. For how long, she did not know. _

_Her resistance to his mind seemed to aggravate the Shade and he clasped her neck tighter. Arya struggled to breathe. _Damn Shade!_ She writhed and kicked, trying to loosen the Shade's incredible grip, and all the while defending her mind. She felt herself near defeat, as her mental fortifications deteriorate under the Shade's ruthless onslaught. They had been so close to stopping it... so close. _

_The Shade infront of her resembled the Durza and loathness seeped from her. The Shade grinned spitefully and Arya's neck burned. _Eragon, wake up!_ She screamed mentally, forcing the sentence to act as a mental spear through the Shade's mind. It caused a small dent, but nothing severe enough to penetrate through its unyielding defences. _

_But, no more than a second later, she saw Eragon through half-hooded eyes stir and rose. But he staggered to one side as Arya felt the Shade's concentration divide into three as he sought to attack Saphira as well. _

"_Our name is Varaug," said the Shade. "Fear us." _

_Arya kicked, relentless in her efforts, determined to get free. But her exertions were not rewarded. The Shade didn't even so much as flinch. The hand around her neck constricted even firmer and Arya gasped. Her lungs burned fiercely, seeking air. Precious air. Her eyesight started to blur and Arya felt the veins in her forehead bulge and throb painfully. But she refused to concede defeat. _

_With the palm of her right hand, she struck the Shade's locked elbow and broke the joint with a loud crack. Varaug's arm sagged and for a moment, Arya's toes brushed the floor and she was able to inhale a lungful of air before the Shade growled and lifted her even higher. _

_The force of the Shade's grasp intensified all the more and she choked. "You shall die," growled Varaug, "You shall all die for imprisoning us in this cold, hard clay." _

_Arya's neck blistered and she felt her eyesight become even vaguer. The Shade's distorted face infront of her became indistinct and she felt herself slipping from consciousness. Arya felt Varaug's mind reaching out to hers once again, but it was resisted by another mind; Eragon. _

_Although in the heat of battle, Arya was very much attuned to him and she knew what he was doing. She was more than grateful. Helping him, Arya redoubled her efforts and continued to break free but Varaug was extremely formidable. She felt a shift in the mental battle and Arya's eyes flitted to Eragon who was now on one knee, clutching his head. _

"_Your ring is full of light!" exclaimed Varaug, his eyes widening with pleasure, "Beautiful light! It will feed us for a long time!" _

_Arya felt Varaug loosen his grip just slightly and she seized the opportunity. She grabbed the Shade's wrist and broke it in three places. She twisted free of Varaug's grip before he could heal himself, but as her feet touched the floor, dizziness overwhelmed her and she dropped to the ground, gasping. She had been deprived of air for far too long. But Arya knew that they were still in peril and she resolved to ignore the immense pain hammering within her entire body. Varaug kicked at her, but she saw it coming and flung herself out of the way. _

_Spotting the glimmer of her sword, she reached out and her hand closed around its hilt. She heard a wordless below from the Shade and she turned around. Her breath was again knocked out of her as they rolled across the cold hard floor. Arya struggled to keep her hand on her sword as the Shade attempted to seize it. _

_Frustrated, Arya shouted and struck Varaug on the side of his head with the pommel of her sword. The Shade went limp for an instant and that was all she needed. Arya scrambled backward and pushed herself upright. On the corner of her eye, Arya saw Eragon straighten himself and Varaug stagger to one side. _

_Arya glanced at Eragon, "Get him!" He shouted. _

_Without anymore hesitancy, Arya hurled herself towards Varaug, and lunged forward with incredible speed. Time slowed as she felt both of her feet hover above the floor and resumed to launch towards the Shade. She pointed her sword accurately at Varuag's heart... _

_With a satisfying squelch, she felt her blade pierce the Shade's flesh. Varaug struggled to pull himself off her sword, but he had been too late; the sword had sliced through his heart. _

_Arya twisted and yanked her blade free. She felt the urge to stagger back as Varaug uttered an ear-splitting, dithering screech that shattered the panes of the glass in the lanterns above. He reached out towards her, but Arya stepped backwards and watched in disgust as the Shade's skin faded and became transparent, revealing the irate spirits that resided in his body._

_The spirits throbbed and expanded in size; Varaug's skin split along the bellies of his muscles and the spirits illuminated a piercing white light. Arya covered her eyes, but she still felt the intensity of the blinding glare. Like a whirlwind, the spirits broke free and rushed out of the room. _

_Arya's pulse gradually slowed after the spirits disappeared, but she struggled to breathe. She leaned against the chair, and cupped her neck as she coughed up the crimson liquid. And Eragon was suddenly there, and he soothingly placed his hands over hers. _

"_Waise heill." She felt the surge of energy mend her throat and her breathing eventually returned to normal. _

"_Better?" he asked as Arya felt the spell finish its work._

"_Better," Arya whispered and gave him a smile; grateful for his help and presence. She motioned towards Varaug, "We killed him, yet we did not die." Incredible, Arya thought. She was surprised that she had even lived through the ordeal. "So few have ever killed a Shade and lived."_

"_That is because they fought alone, not together, like us." _

"_No, not like us." _Definitely not like us_. Arya's eye twinkled with a hint of amusement as she caught his gaze. _

"_I had you help me in Farthen Dur, and you had me to help you here."_

"_Yes." _

"_Now I shall have to call you Shadeslayer." Arya smiled at that._

"_We are both—" She was interrupted as Saphira uttered a long, mournful keen. The sapphire dragon raked her claws across the floor, chipping and scratching the stones, her tail whipping from side to side and smashing the furniture and grim paintings on the walls. _Gone!_ She said. _Gone! Forever gone!

_Ultimately distressed, Arya exclaimed, "Saphira, what's wrong?" However, the dragon refused to answer and Arya glanced worriedly at Eragon. _

"_What's wrong?" She repeated, anxiety clear on her tone and expression. _

_Eragon seemed distraught, and he gently said, "Oromis and Glaedr are dead. Galbatorix killed them." _

_Arya staggered back as if she had been hit. _No... not any more losses. Why... why? _Arya gripped the back of the chair so hard that her knuckles went white. She felt numb. So many have died in this war; her friends, her father, Faolin... _now Oromis and Glaedr_. Powerless to stop it, Arya felt tears fall down her cheeks and coursed down her face. She seeked _him_, her solace. _

"_Eragon." Arya reached out and grasped his shoulder. In a moment, Arya found herself being held in his arms. She wept silently, wanting the grief and sorrow to wash away. Their deaths caused an emotion so painful and profound that all she could do was hold Eragon close. Enveloped in his embrace, in the arms of her angel, Arya cried. The excruciating pain battered her inside, but Eragon's presence somehow diminished it. Eragon consoled her and she, in return. _

_And there, in that bittersweet moment Arya stood safely in his arms until the last teardrop fell... _

...

Arya awoke as the memory faded from her mind. She sat upright, pushing the blankets aside. The raw and painful sensation stirred within her and she extinguished it. War didn't allow her to dwell on these memories while she was conscious, and so she didn't. It was unjust that the painful memories haunted her in her dreams.

A lone tear escaped her eye and she let it fall. She gathered her knees close to her and rested her chin upon them. The dull, gaping hole in her chest seem to burn around the edges as she couldn't help recall the memories. Grief swallowed her and for once, she didn't resist.

She closed her eyes and gathered the memories leisurely and hid them away yet again. Deep in the confines of her mind, she felt the darkness intensify as the rawness of her emotions swept across her. It took a few minutes to control herself and she exhaled a shaky breath. She was awake now, time to chase the memories away. Arya rarely had a sweet dream; they were always haunting and painful.

Keeping her emotions in check, she locked them away, the numbness fading.

She stood up. The sun's light barely blanketed the Hadarac but the casted glow was enough for it to be considered a new day. She tidied her sleeping blanket and tied her hair. She secured her sword and her other weapons back into the slots of her outfit.

Then Arya sneaked a glanced at Eragon who seemed to have entangled himself in the blankets and from where she sat, she could hardly see his face as his ruffled hair covered it. The sight amused her and she found herself smiling. She ambled beside him and grabbed the faelnirv. Carefully, she pushed his matted hair aside and let the liquid seep into his mouth.

For a few lingering seconds, she studied his face. She was proud of him. No other being had ever surprised her more. He confounded, amused, even angered her at times, but he affected her in such a way that she knew no other ever had. It was indeed frustrating, but she couldn't help but cherish his presence.

Gently, she probed his mind, only to find him dreaming of flying. _He was flying over mountains, sat atop Saphira. The fierce wind blew his hair back and he loved the feeling... _Arya smiled and was just about to withdraw from his mind when his dreams took a shift and Arya saw herself flying withhim. Ensnared; she let her curiosity win over and she remained.

Surprised, Arya observed herself in Eragon's dreams, curious to how _he _sees her. She sat infront of Eragon, both of them secured safely on the saddle.

The cerulean sky hovered above them and the sun's joyful rays bathed them warmly. Eragon laughed; an ethereal masculine sound that dominated Arya's attention. It was infectious and she couldn't help but smile as well. It was peaceful... and pleasant. For a few minutes, she watched herself and Eragon fly, Saphira roaring majestically as they ascended even higher into the perfect clouds. There was a gleam in her eyes which she never thought she had as she watched herself laugh with him.

Eragon, behind her, smiled and his eyes... so tender and contained such longing that she hadn't perceived before. Her lips formed a soft frown as she watched the Eragon in the dream smile, but his eyes contained a look of incompleteness and such sadness. Arya withdrew from the dream. It reminded her too much of what was in her power to easily make that dejection disappear.

On her feet, Arya stretched and welcomed the morning breeze. She prepared herself and strolled across a hillock where she studied the sky and land. Everything looked so peaceful, so serene... just the way it should be. For a sweet silent hour and a half, Arya remained in her position and sat in quiet contemplation. She rarely acquired the time for peaceful moments like these. It was hard, given the circumstances they were in. The sun was visibly beyond the horizon now and Arya stirred herself. She had some things to do.

Walking over to a different spot, she silently scooped the earth beneath her hands until it formed a large enough hole. She summoned water and filled it up. She whispered, "Draumr kopfa," and intoned a few more spells that allowed her and the recipient to converse and perceive each other.

The water rippled under her command and she awaited Nasuada's appearance. She hadn't reported to Nasuada for a lengthy period; because of all that was happening, she had _forgotten_. However, her mother would be informed of her success after she reported to the Varden Leader. She pondered that conversing with Nasuada first would be a great deal easier.

Arya watched the water shimmer until it depicted the contents of Nasuada's tent. Then the image flickered and she found herself facing one of the Elven spellcasters. She greeted Arya first in the Ancient Language.

"And peace live in your heart." Arya replied.

The starlight-haired elf continued to speak in the Ancient Language, "Arya Drottningu, we have been awaiting your report. We feared that something has gone amiss in your mission."

"There was a drawback, but I found the Shur'tugal." Arya replied curtly.

"Lady Nasuada is currently attending a meeting. If you wish to wait-"

"I will wait," said Arya, although her patience was thin.

The elf bowed. "As you wish, Princess Arya. Lady Nasuada won't be long."

Arya nodded. She watched as the female elf's figure became indistinct on the other side and once again, she was looking at the contents of Nasuada's tent. She could discern parchments and maps of Alageasia on her desk and there were a few pieces of paper and other objects scattered around.

Arya heard movement behind her. Spinning around, she saw Eragon still asleep and Saphira beginning to awaken. Her huge wings and her sharp claws against the boulder produced a whooshing and scratching sound. Arya smiled. "Saphira, you have slept well into the morning."

_Good morning to you too, alfa-kona. _Saphira yawned, stretching her glorious wings once more. The sunlight caught her scales and she dazzled. The sapphire dragon glanced at her Rider.

_When will Eragon awake? _Saphira questioned, _I wish to fly with him... it's such a beautiful day for flying. _She said, sniffing the air.

_He will awaken soon; a few more hours. _Arya said, then frowned, _I fear that I may have given him too much of the resting potion. _

Saphira heaved her muscular legs, _Hmm. No matter, he needs rest. Besides, he'll need strength when I try to strangle him for being so stubborn. _

Arya laughed.

"Princess Arya," the elf from the casting mirror spoke, "Lady Nasuada is here."

Arya turned from Saphira after quickly telling her that she was about to talk to Nasuada. Looking at the water screen, Arya watched as Nasuada entered her field of vision. She held a relieved expression, but Arya noted the hint of weariness dragging her shoulders.

"Lady Nasuada." Arya spoke first.

"Arya, how did you fare? Is Eragon with you?" The Varden Leader asked.

"He is with me."

Nasuada exhaled a breath, her features lightening. "Your Queen had informed me of your prior circumstances before, but I had hoped I heard it from you." Nasuada said.

"Forgive me, my Lady, but I simply did not have the time to do so," said Arya.

"I understand," she said, "But you must make haste to Feinster, for the army and the dwarves grow restless without Eragon and Saphira's presence."

Arya nodded.

"In addition, the men are in constant paranoia that we may be attacked by Murtagh or even Galbatorix himself. As you fully well know, we cannot win if one of them should make an appearance."

"I am aware of that, my Lady," said Arya, "We will begin our travel as soon as Eragon awakens."

"How badly was he wounded?" Nasuada asked, concerned; for Eragon's sole welfare, or the Varden's, Arya didn't know.

"He was harshly tortured," Arya said, unable to keep the disgust out of her tone as she remembered Eragon's condition when she found him, "But I have healed him meticulously; he will recover."

Nasuada nodded, "That is good." There was a pause, then, "Did you obtain the dragon egg?"

Arya gripped the sand on the sides of the water screen, inwardly frustrated at herself for not accomplishing her other mission. "No."

Nasuada sighed. Arya shared the disheartening sentiment. The Varden Leader gazed at her, "At least you have Eragon. That is all that matters," she said, "as soon as Eragon awakens then, I want you heading straight here."

"We will," Arya nodded, "I estimate it will take about three days to arrive there. We are at the northern outskirts of the Hadarac-"

Nasuada raised a brow. Arya noticed and said, "I will fully explain when I arrive."

"I expect you to give a _full_ account when you get back, Arya; you and Eragon."

Arya tilted her head in agreement, "When Eragon awakes, we shall fly back as swiftly as possible, then stop at Gil'ead to report to Queen Islanzadi."

"Do not tarry for longer unless it's necessary." Nasuada said, "It is pleasure hearing from you Arya, and I am glad you succeeded in finding Eragon. But for now, other matters need attending to. If I next hear from you, I hope it will be when you report your approach to Fienster."

"Of course, Nasuada," Arya said, "Thank you for your time."

The water screen shimmered and Nasuada's face faded from view. Arya stood up, wiping her hands on her leather pants.

_Did your discussion go well? _Saphira asked as she shuffled beside Eragon.

_It did go well, Saphira, thank you for asking. _Arya nodded, as she made her way to Eragon's other side.

"He should wake up in a few hours." Arya announced.

_Yes, I feel his consciousness slowly rising to the surface. _There was a silence. _What now? _

_Now, I must report our progress to my mother. _Arya said with a soft sigh and headed back to her earlier spot.

_Within The Black Citadel._

Eerie silence reined inside the black castle as Murtagh strolled casually through the corridors, heading back to his room. His padded boots produced soft footfalls against the concrete floor. His mind was far-away, dreaming of freedom...

_...Don't. _Thorn growled through their link, _it only reminds us more of what cannot be. _

Murtagh shrugged and instead, intensified his day dream; _at least in my reveries I am free..._

Thorn said nothing through their link and a flash of pain lacerated through them both as the dragon felt intense pain.

_Your leg? _Murtagh winced.

_It's causing me more pain than I anticipated. _Thorn rasped and Murtagh caught the image of his dragon baring his sharp teeth.

_I will be there shortly, _Murtagh said as he quickened his pace. A minute later, Murtagh entered his room, Thorn curled in the corner, but one of his claws looked embedded on the concrete floor. Murtagh felt his suppressed frustration and pain.

_I'm sorry, Thorn. _Murtagh said as he laid his hand on Thorn's left wing.

_There was nothing you could have done. _Thorn said quietly. Both of them remained in silent contemplation until Galbatorix' voice rang out like a smashing 'boom' in their minds. Thorn let out a snarl and Murtagh grimaced. Galbatorix' vast and ancient mind could easily engulf theirs, and his mind echoed many whisperings. Murtagh flinched as the voices brushed against his consciousness and he heard their pleas, the imprisoned Eldunari's trapped in Galbatorix' clutches.

_Murtagh, Thorn... I have a mission for you. _His tone of voice was gentle, but it belied a sinister menace that Murtagh and Thorn knew all too well.

_I expect you to be in the hall in an hour. _Galbatorix ordered. _And Thorn, I will see what I can do about your leg yet again. _

Thorn brightened but he didn't say his thanks. Murtagh replied, _Yes, my King, we will be there. _

The noise from their mental link subsided as Galbatorix withdrew from their minds. It felt like a large pin was extracted from their skulls and Murtagh shuddered with revulsion.

_What mission do you think he will send us to? _Thorn asked.

Murtagh sat on the edge of his bed. Running his hands through his dark mane, he murmured, _I don't know. _

_

* * *

_**_A/N:_**

_If you hadn't noticed, this chapter was just a filler, and I decided to pace it slowly.=P_

_Murtagh and Thorn- I hope you don't mind their part. Their mission...will be exciting, and... well, you'll just have to wait. ;)_

_As for the Eragon&Arya gang, nothing much will be happening with them until they reach Feinster. So next chapter will be all about Murtagh&Thorn. _

_Thank you for the reviews on the last few chapter guys. I appreciate it. I'll reply to individual posts if I could, but at the moment, I don't have the time. All your reviews are appreciated. _

_CJ.x_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12.**

**

* * *

*****_**_**

_The moon's serene gaze washed upon the ship; it was a strange, fair ship, designed with a combination of small, beautiful patterns and glyphs. There was no wind, yet the air thrummed, as if in anticipation of an impending occurrence. _

_Eragon's vision broadened, and in his field of sight, he saw a small group of figures, sat atop horses. The moonlight casted silver luminosity on the spectators making their hair glow like the moon's light. And in the light, Eragon discerned that each of the figure carried tall spears and lances._

_But that was not what riveted Eragon's attention; he turned his eyes, and saw two figures, arm in arm, boarding the ship. Although their faces were veiled with cowls, from their forms, he knew that one was male and the other female. Suddenly, Eragon's heart lurched, seemingly familiar with the figures' strides..._

...

Eragon felt himself rapidly surfacing consciousness, his senses flowing back into him with tingling force. His muscles jerked stiffly as he moved. A groan escaped his lips as his bones clicked, seemingly weak after lying for so long. Eragon's eyes fluttered open. Painful light stabbed his eyes and he immediately shut them close. Still, he felt the slight burning behind his eyelids.

Eragon clamped the emotions that rose to the surface as he remembered that his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. Perpetual darkness; both in the cell he was kept in, and his mind's black inertness. Bitterness splintered its way to his heart, his memories haunting him. The torment he had suffered, _endured_ - was a reminder that he could be better, _should _be better. The Twins had captured him so easily, without as much as breaking a sweat. Determined never to let such a thing happened again, he vowed that he would push himself to the limit; in daily exertions, both physical and magic.

He tried to shift his body, only to be seized by powerful aches that seemed to have shackled any movements. It was unbelievably painful. More thoughts swam in Eragon's mind, the trivial thoughts drowning as he concentrated on the partner-of-his-life's psyche. He found her in his head, guided by the throbbing light that seemed to have swept away the pain.

_Saphira? _He reached out to her.

His dragon's reply was not long in coming. _Yes, little one?_

_Are you beside me?_

_Yes. _

_Can you nudge me? My body doesn't seem to be functioning properly at the moment. _

Eragon felt shuddering movements around him, and he felt pain as something made contact with his left shoulder. That seemed to have awakened Eragon's body and his arms and legs responded to the "nudge." It felt like a spear driving through his whole body. He opened his eyes and gasped.

_Careful, little one. _Saphira prodded him gently on the shoulder yet again. Eragon gave another jolt, waiting for his body to adjust. Once he felt calm and relaxed, he heaved himself upwards, which he found to be a laborious task. Saphira supported his back with her snout.

Eragon grunted his thanks as he felt the rush of blood in his head. Temporarily dizzy, he closed his eyes for a brief moment and revelled the fresh air that washed upon his face. He opened his eyes and readjusted to the scene before him. He glimpsed the yellow-brown sea of sand on his left. _Hadarac_.

His eyes wandered again and he found himself staring at huge orbs of blue eyes. They blinked. "Saphira!" Eragon exclaimed, only to cough as his voice broke mid-sentence. He coughed a few more times, his throat feeling sore.

_Little one, there is a drink in the pack. _Saphira said as she reached down and hooked the bag sling with her teeth and tossed it infront of Eragon. He sent her his thanks and fumbled through the bag, grasping the bottle of faelnirv. As soon as the liquid entered his mouth, relief washed upon his senses and eased the pain in his sore muscles.

A few seconds later, Eragon jumped up, stretching his body like a wire, bending and twisting it as he wished. His muscles ached, but it was a marvellous feeling. Then, he turned to Saphira and embraced her neck as tightly as he could. Saphira's neck shook as it reverberated with laughter.

_Careful, little one, you're starting to choke me._

Eragon lessened his grip. _Sorry. _He pulled pack and stared into her sapphire eyes. _I've missed you, Saphira. _

_And I, you, little one. _She grinned, and then her expression became fierce, _But know that I won't ever let you out of my sight again. _

Eragon laughed and Saphira's countenance softened. _You attract trouble. _She muttered.

Eragon shook his head and he looked around; their camp oddly tidy. His sleeping bag and the pack were the only things on the floor. He frowned, _where's Arya?_

As if on cue, Arya entered their camp, her dark hair tied back, except for a few tresses that fell on her face. To Eragon, it seemed as if he hadn't seen her for an eternity and he couldn't help hold back a huge grin. His slumber had made him forget how stunning and graceful Arya looked. Her flawlessness rendered him speechless, abruptly obliterating everything on his mind. He only saw _her. _

She was dressed in her leather outfit and her Elven sword was strapped on her belt on her right hip. Her dark clothing clung to her like a second skin, blatantly outlining her voluptuous figure. Her slinking strides, gentle and elegant, belied the strong strength within her.

Arya's beautiful emerald eyes met his, and Eragon felt that intense, familiar lurch every time he looked at her. His heart stuttered helplessly as she smiled at him.

"Eragon." She said, her lilting voice invoking a visceral response from him.

"Arya." He replied, smiling, "Thank you for healing me."

"You're welcome."

Saphira jetted smoke at Eragon. He coughed. "And Saphira, thank you too." He said, after recovering from the warm smoke that had temporarily enveloped him.

He glanced at Arya who was still smiling. But then she seemed to catch herself in the action and she looked away, her smile fading. Eragon's smile faltered slightly and he looked at Saphira.

_Thank you for the lovely smoke. _

Saphira held her head in mock-arrogance. That got a chuckle out of him and Saphira smiled.

"Well, I better get ready." He announced. With that, he picked up his pack and prepared himself. Arya stood where she was, her bag on her shoulder.

Eragon noted that his tunic was fresh and clean, but he still wore his tattered trousers. He glanced at Saphira, _I'm sure I was wearing a bloodied tunic. _

Saphira grinned; amusement radiated off her in waves, _Arya changed your tunic. _

Unable to help it, Eragon reddened slightly, realizing why then it was only his trousers that was unchanged. But of course, she needed to have removed most of his clothes to heal his wounds. He casted a look at Arya, who suddenly sensed Saphira's mirth. Her eyes narrowed at the sapphire dragon.

Deciding he should say something, Eragon said, "Is there any place I can wash myself?"

Arya shook her heard. "No."

Eragon felt foolish for asking- they were near the _desert_. He spoke to Saphira, _On our way to Gil'ead, can we stop at Lake Isenstar?_

Saphira craned her neck_. Of course. I need a wash myself. My scales are covered with sand. _

_You are still beautiful though, _Eragon smiled.

Saphira beamed. Eragon rummaged through his pack and found clean trousers. Arya tilted her head ever so slightly, "I'll give you your privacy." With dignity, she walked away from the camp. Eragon hated her brief departure, but then again, it would have been a very awkward situation if she remained. Without more fuss, Eragon changed his clothing, and in the process, found that his legs were healed. Gratitude for Arya filled him. He would never forget what she had done for him; he owed her.

Eragon ran his fingers through his matted hair, disliking its greasy texture. However, he made himself appear more decent; he washed his face with water and strapped Brisingr to his belt. Beloth the Wise circled his waist and his body was soon clad by his armour. He felt something missing, but he didn't ponder upon it.

A few seconds later, just as Eragon finished packing his stuff, Arya came back, her face stoic. Eragon wanted to see her smile; he disliked Arya's impassiveness. A plan formed in his head, and he told Saphira. The sapphire dragon grinned, loving the idea.

As soon as they packed, Eragon mounted Saphira, with Arya climbing after him. It had felt so long since he flied. Anticipation built up inside of him, excitement filtering through. Trapped in a cell for several days, Eragon had decided he didn't like confined spaces. It removed his liberty, his right to fly. A Dragon Rider's freedom to air was as much as anyone's freedom to breathe.

Eragon stroked Saphira's scales, admiring her beauty. As much as he cherished being freed, he revelled Saphira and Arya's presence above all else.

Arya's arms snaked around his waist, gripping him tight as Saphira launched to the skies. Exhilaration swelled within Eragon as air whipped his face. It was an exquisite feeling. Too long had he been deprived to fly the skies with his dragon. The feeling was unequivocally wonderful. They soared high above the clouds, the sun bathing them with its warmth. Eragon's plan filled Saphira's head, and they were anticipating the Elven princess' reaction.

Saphira rocketed upwards, reaching the pinnacle of her strength, to the highest point she could manage. Trepidation mingled with excitement filled Eragon, and behind him he felt Arya tense; they both knew what was coming. Saphira lingered beyond the clouds, her wings heaving with tremendous force, getting them as high as she could.

Around his waist, Eragon felt Arya's arms tighten, coiled around him like constrictors. They were so high.

_Get ready, _Eragon told Arya mentally, briefly brushing against her mind. It sent shivers down his spine, and Eragon hoped that she hadn't felt it. Arya sent him an image of her wrestling with Saphira when they reach the ground. Eragon laughed, acknowledging her threat. Eragon lingered in Arya's mind, as if seeking his consent to stay there.

There was the slightest hesitance, and then Arya complied. Eragon felt Arya's hint of fear of being so high, and he wished to calm her, wishing that she would enjoy the experience... wishing to bring that smile he wanted her to have.

...

Eragon's anticipation and excitement filled Arya, erasing her fear. Her assent to his mind connection was a great decision. Saphira had flown them so high; Arya thought that a dragon could never reach this height. They were truly beyond the clouds now and Arya's fear began to return. Eragon's serenity obliterated that and she could sense him smiling, in anticipation of what Saphira was about to do.

She gasped, tightening her hold on Eragon all the more, if that were possible. Her vice-like grip must be suffocating him, yet he did not protest. _Hasn't she flown high enough? _Arya asked, her voice tinted with anxiety.

Arya could sense a smile in Eragon's sentence as he replied; _She will reach her maximum height soon. _

That did not give Arya any comfort whatsoever. She dared to look below them, only spotting glimpses of the land as the white clouds drifted to cover them. Gradually, Saphira stopped flying upwards and they seemed to dangle in the air. The sapphire dragon veered her head momentarily and gave a huge grin.

_Saphira..._ Arya began to say, then the dragon gave one last heave of her wings and they went the tiniest bit upwards, then slowly, tilted forward, as if they were hanging on the edge of a cliff. Arya's mental sentence didn't finish, as Saphira plunged steeply downwards.

Eragon's yell, accompanied by the dragon's roar, echoed throughout the sky. Arya screamed, the force of the rushing air below them whipping her face and hair with swift, relentless force. Saphira's body pierced through the clouds, the trio covered with the droplets of water. Eragon's yell turned to laughter as Arya's scream rose. They were plummeting with such speed that it was impossible _not _to scream.

Arya's sense of fear faded as Eragon's excitement filled her mind, and soon she found herself enjoying the dive rather than dying of fright. The land below them greeted them in a blur of a rush, and Saphira's streamlined form and steep angle only made their speed go all the more faster.

"Saphira!" Arya shouted, almost close to a plea. Arya felt Eragon shake with laughter and she sent him a sense of playful reprimand. They continued to plummet to the dragon and Arya was worried when the ground below approached them with rapid speed.

With a loud whooshing sound, Saphira unfolded her wings and the flight abruptly decreased, and they glided through the air, the ground below them no more than several feet.

Arya was gasping; with relief, exhilaration or just pure fear, she didn't know. Eragon was still laughing, his stomach vibrating with the sound.

_That wasn't funny. _Arya spoke to him mentally, trying to berate him but failed. She felt herself smiling.

Saphira's voice filled their connected minds, _Now, that was fun. _

Her amusement to Arya's previous screaming had sent the dragon into a laughing fit. Arya let her; she hadn't had this much excitement for a long while.

As their merriment faded slightly, Eragon withdrew from Arya's mind, _Thank you for sharing the experience with me; with our minds linked. _He said. Arya felt his deep honour to have been able to share that with her.

_Likewise. _She replied in the Ancient Language. The experience had been frightening yet exciting; she was glad to have had him in her mind during the descent.

Saphira had been flying for no more than several minutes until the city of Gil'ead loomed upon them. Eragon nudged Saphira mentally, _Lake Isenstar first. _

Following her rider's instruction, she veered her direction slightly, heading for the glimmering lake beside the city. In companionable silence, the three observed the city ahead as they neared it. The Elven banner, accompanied by the Varden's was situated at the highest points of the gate, indicating that the city had been conquered. Tents surrounded the city and Eragon discerned the elves' glittering armour as they moved below them.

_One of the elves has contacted me; they are glad that you are present. _Arya said, _I have told them that we will land soon. _

Eragon nodded. Within a few more minutes, Saphira reached the lake and she prepared to dive. Eragon shielded their packs, so they would not get soaked. Saphira closed her wings yet again, but the plummet this time was not as steep.

_Allow me to enchant a spell to protect our eyes, _Eragon told Arya. She agreed.

As soon as Saphira was above the lake, she drove straight in, like an Elven arrow. The water met contact with scales and skin; it felt surprisingly warm. Saphira's dive produced plenty of bubbles around them, but as it cleared, Arya could clearly see the contents of the lake. Fishes, of all colours and sorts, swam around them or beside them. The lake's plants were a combination of dull grey to wonderful, bright colours. All manner of sea creatures steered clear of Saphira apart from a small group of colourful fishes which swam beside her. Arya was enthralled by their beauty.

The Lake was mildly deep and Arya could see the shafts of sunlight that shone through the surface of the lake, making the water glow with its light. It truly was a magnificent sight.

Saphira swam with her tail and Arya felt them rise upwards, breaking through the surface of the water. Arya had held her breath and as soon as air was around them, she inhaled, revelling the freshness of her senses. Eragon removed their spell and wove another one; a spell which dried them.

"That was beautiful, Eragon." Arya whispered in his ear.

_There are things far more beautiful compared to that. _Eragon said in her mind, his mental voice the equivalence of a spoken whisper. _Far more perfect... _

Arya caught a hint in his words. She didn't know whether to be mad at him for saying such bold wordsor elated for the compliment. As if confirming her feelings, her body betrayed her, her cheeks reddened and a smile formed her lips. She didn't reply to his sentence, lest they give away her true feelings. She simply gave a slight squeeze of her arms. She knew she enjoyed his words and touch far too much. Her steel resolve was deteriorating. She almost laughed at her helplessness against him. No more than two days ago had she promised she would keep away, distance herself from him.

Yet here she was, breaking every rule she had made.

**-x-**

_A Day Ago_

Murtagh and Thorn waited patiently in the opulent hall. Murtagh felt the marble floor's protest as Thorn's claws scratched the ground. Although they had only been waiting for a few minutes, Murtagh felt Thorn's agitation rise to the surface. Galbatorix had sent for them, but where was he?

Murtagh allowed his eyes to wander, absorb in the hall's grandeur. As insane, or as evil as the dark King was, he had a good taste for beautiful craftsmanship. Marble columns held the hall's roof, the ceiling painted with a cerulean sky and the hall's walls were decorated with grand, invaluable paintings. The hall was bright, illuminated by incredibly bright lanterns which never seemed to stop burning. Murtagh and his dragon stood at the front of the hall, infront of a huge marble throne. Engraved on the head of the throne were words of the Ancient Language. It read: _Ruler of Alageasia. _

Murtagh scoffed at that. None could rule a land, but the land itself. Nature was the ruler. None can control the day and night, none can control the weather; so how was he a Ruler if he did not rule them so? Murtagh shook his head. Galbatorix had probably kept in mind that he meant that he was the Ruler of the people of Alageasia, not the land itself.

There was a loud boom as the doors opened and closed. Galbatorix strode in; his dark robes flowing behind him like wisps of smoke. His crown adorned his head and Murtagh glimpsed his sword tucked underneath the folds of his robes. His built was not robust, but he had an aura of menace and ultimate power around him. The air cackled with vigour as he walked past.

Murtagh couldn't help but wonder, how can one man, mortal or immortal, hold the power equivalent to the strength of countless of dragons? Not just the strength, but also the knowledge. Murtagh had come to realize that knowledge far exceeded the value of brute strength. Although one fighter with a decent amount of skill of the sword may have the endurance of a thousand runners; given the right knowledge of how to use a sword, his adversary may know how to exploit it in ways that would leave the fighter defenceless or kill him in a few seconds. Ultimately, the one with the valuable knowledge would undoubtedly win.

That was why an army of a thousand men could easily be defeated by a rider and his dragon. None would be able to withstand against the vast wisdom the dragon and his rider holds. Murtagh shook his head slightly, too deep in thoughts. He cleared his head, just as Galbatorix reached his throne. He looked upon them with all his authority and power.

Murtagh met his eyes, and he could not deny the dominance the King held over him. He was like a mere rabbit against a formidable lion.

"Murtagh, Thorn." He spoke their names in a gentle tone, belying his supreme command.

"My King," In a bow of feigned respect and forced submissiveness, Murtagh leant on one knee and said through gritted teeth, "You have requested our appearance." Reluctantly, Thorn tilted his head slightly as well.

"That I did, young ones." Galbatorix said. He studied them, as one might study a fly caught in a trap. Curiosity, fascination and pity mingled in his countenance.

Murtagh wanted to twist that little "countenance" into an expression of pain. Nothing would ever please him more; Murtagh's hatred of Galbatorix went beyond any level of abhorrence. It was truly inconceivable how much loathing he held for him. A man who had experienced a taste of freedom, then be put on a leash was the most tormenting sensation. The lost of freedom was past insufferable. Thorn shared his feelings.

"Such a shame you are not as loyal as your father was." He sighed, his expression one of pity. Thorn snarled, unable to keep the pain he felt through his Rider's bond.

Murtagh gripped Za'roc's pommel. He bitterly repeated the words he had spoken so long ago, "A son does not choose his father."

Any mention of his father awoke such a level of pain and revulsion within him, that it was comparable to his hatred of Galbatorix. However, more pain than hatred was evoked whenever _Morzan _was mentioned. Murtagh wanted to love his father, even feel some kind of admiration for him, but there were none. It was obliterated the instant he threw the sword at his back. It slashed a wound in his soul much deeper than the physical cut.

Galbatorix' expression altered to one of interest, "True as that may be, but a son can also follow in his father's footsteps."

Murtagh countered boldly, "Some sons _freely _choose to follow, and others are _forced._"

Galbatorix grinned, "Even if they are forced, then don't you think that it was their _wyrd _who led them to have become forced? You may have been forced, boy, but that doesn't change the fact that you are your father's son. He has served me as you are serving me now. One aspect, however, differs blatantly between you and your father; he was a follower." Galbatorix paused dramatically, his cruel smile forming, "_You_ are a slave."

Murtagh's expression of furious defiance turned to one of intense fury. Thorn growled, low and deep, echoing his Rider's antagonism.

"_Morzan _choose the wrong person to follow." Murtagh said through gritted teeth, "I would know who to follow if such freedom was presented to me."

The two Riders locked eyes, neither one refusing to look away. Abruptly, like a huge piercing needle, a stab of pain went through Murtagh's skull, driving his thoughts away. He gasped, his knees dropping to the ground. Beside him, Thorn shook his head, a growl ripping from his throat.

Murtagh fought the pain, attempting to counteract the mind invasion. Despite his resolute defence, Galbatorix crushed them, revelling in their helplessness. A myriad of whispers echoed in Murtagh's mind, submerging his own thoughts. Thorn assisted him, alleviating his pain by fully opening his mind to his Rider's. The throbbing in Murtagh's head insisted, but he refused to beg for mercy.

Brusquely, the torture ceased, and Murtagh's mind cleared, save for Thorn's thoughts. Murtagh inhaled deeply, nauseated by the experience. Slightly trembling, he stood up, his forehead filmed with perspiration. His hands curled in fists, Murtagh glared at the king.

"Nevertheless," Galbatorix continued, as if nothing had happened, "As you have just illustrated, Murtagh; you have more determination... more _anger._"

Murtagh froze, restraining any response. Instead, he glowered, his expression fierce and unyielding. Beside him, Thorn shifted uncomfortably after the mind invasion. Galbatorix chuckled.

"Murtagh," He said, as if he was jesting with an old friend, "Your anger is indeed mesmerizing to observe, but it proves more useful in tasks. You see, anger is one of the fiercest emotions," Galbatorix spoke as if he was teaching a young child what a spoon was used for, "The sentiment allows us to do things we may have fear or hesitance in doing so before. It controls our actions, in the midst of our rage. Answer this question: would you rather kill a man whom you seek revenge for, or a man who was simply a soldier in the opposing army?"

_What a foolish question, _Murtagh thought to Thorn. Nonetheless, he answered, "Of course, the man whom I have to take revenge on."

Galbatorix nodded, "What if he had your blood? If it was your brother, father or uncle: would they have still been easier to kill?"

Murtagh would have thought deeply about the question first, but he spoke his initial answer, "If what they did was truly unforgivable, if their intentions were to kill me as well, then I would not hesitate."

Galbatorix smiled, seemingly pleased with the answer.

"You see, the anger enhances one's drive to kill," Galbatorix said, his gaze becoming distant, he was no longer looking at Murtagh, but at nothing in particular, "If anger is ignited, if pain and anger was all you feel; everything would simply... _vanish_. Whoever caused you that anger and pain would not be left alive for long. Soon, the anger would be the motive of your conduct. Your target, your sole objective; your revenge would become your life. You would put everything else above it... nothing would matter in the duration of your wrath. You would do absolutely anything to get your aim achieved." He paused, "Anger makes you feel invincible."

Murtagh felt that Galbatorix was no longer addressing the subject, but also recollecting a faraway, precious memory. Despite his hatred for the king, Murtagh felt the tiniest hint of sympathy for him, for he knew which memories the king spoke of: his dragon's death and his total fury when the Elders refused him a new dragon. But then Murtagh remembered how he enslaved Eldunari's and twisted Shruikan's mind to make him become his; all his empathy receded.

Galbatorix slowly returned to reality, locking away his painful memories, "You see why anger is important, Murtagh? It can be the core of a person; their very foundation. It drives them to do things which may be impossible, but yet in their eyes, nothing will seem impossible."

The King's icy stare fell upon him, his ancient eyes searching his. He began another topic.

"Morzan died in the hands of Brom… great Riders they were. Very powerful," Galbatorix paused, "With you as the oldest living Rider of the _new_ generation, I expect more like you: strong and adamant. But of course, not so much stubborn."

Murtagh wanted prove that statement, but he refrained himself. Instead he stared at the ground, calming his previous fury.

"I have been... disappointed." Galbatorix murmured gently.

Murtagh looked up, his fury replaced by confusion and frustration at Galbatorix' sudden and constant changes of topics.

"Did you know that the Twins had actually succeeded in capturing your brother?" Galbatorix revealed.

Murtagh's eyes widened with surprise. "...Eragon?"

"However, a few days ago, he ... escaped." Galbatorix imparted sadly, tapping his fingers on his marble arm rest.

Murtagh didn't know what to feel; if he should be glad that Eragon escaped, or resentful that his brother has freedom and he doesn't. It was selfish of him, but he couldn't help but feel that way.

"Nevertheless," Galbatorix continued, "The Twins have died; better for them, for if they had lived... they would have suffered a very... excruciating death."

Murtagh didn't doubt his words. Galbatorix had a way of even surpassing the most malevolent methods a monster could perform.

Galbatorix waved his hand, "It is a small matter. There are bigger things at hand. _Eragon _is no threat. He is but a child."

Murtagh wanted to smile at that. Eragon had proved to be a formidable opponent; his strength and knowledge startled Murtagh, but it shouldn't be so unexpected. Eragon had the opportunity, to be fortunate enough to have been taught by one of the legendary dragon riders; Oromis. Murtagh had regretted the Rider's death, he would've rather had him as his mentor than the dark King.

"Despite Eragon's escape, the Twins did prove themselves quite useful. They specialised in torture, and I'm sure the Varden's rider had received a significant amount of affliction." He smiled, "The Twins had been ferrying the egg to the outskirts of the Empire, yet they still did not find its Rider."

The news caught Murtagh's crept in yet again and Murtagh glanced at the dark king, his attention seemingly distant. "If the dragon egg should not hatch, I might be tempted to force it yet again…"

Murtagh winced. The small reaction captured the King's gaze and he smiled maliciously, "Fortunately, for our adversaries, the temptation isn't merely enough. The dragon egg is male; I have heard its thoughts. Interestingly, it knows what surrounds him; tricking him would be adjoining impossible. Dragons have strong defence, even when they are naught but an egg." Galbatorix stood his form immaculately demeaning.

"Besides, I have no rush to get the egg to hatch, but it would be a great matter if it did." He sighed and descended from the steps, biding his time.

Galbatorix contemplated something in his thoughts for a long moment, then he murmured, "I want you to ferry the dragon egg to the Varden, Murtagh."

Murtagh jolted as if he had been slapped on the face. He could not suppress his shock, "What?"

"There will be purpose in the action, of course," Galbatorix said, smiling, "None in the Empire is the dragon egg's Rider."

"So you suppose that its Rider is in the Varden?" Murtagh asked.

"My thoughts exactly," Galbatorix replied, "It is a risk to let it hatch for someone in the Varden, but the risk will be worth it."

Murtagh couldn't see how. But Galbatorix elaborated, "I have rigorously deliberated the consequences, but I assure you, the Rider will side with us."

"They will not," Murtagh said, "_They_ are the Varden; they oppose _you_."

Galbatorix grinned, and walked infront of Murtagh, "You are not exactly on my side, Murtagh. Now, how did I make sure you were?"

The realization dawned on Murtagh; Galbatorix was going to bind the Rider with dark oaths. But, in order to completely have them under his control, he would have to know their true names... which he didn't. Galbatorix didn't even know who the Rider would hatch for.

"You do not know who the rider could possibly be, and their true name would also have to be considered." Murtagh said, echoing his thoughts.

"In order for a plan to be great, it has to be methodically thought through," Galbatorix said gently, "I have contemplated every aspect of the plan. You, Murtagh, will tell me who the Rider is as soon as the egg hatches. I have been in practice with learning the true names of people, I am sure a little puzzle will not exhaust me. Now, you will also stay there for the remainder of the hatchling's growth and education. This process will last several months, and I will be able to contact you through your mind."

The enormity and absurdness of the plan overwhelmed Murtagh. He was simply speechless.

"While your stay there, you will observe the Varden's plan; their tactics, strengths and weaknesses," Galbatorix continued, "All of which, you will report to me."

"As soon as the hatchling and his Rider are ready, I will bind them with oaths, through you," Galbatorix said, "They should follow you; the expletives are inescapable."

Finally, Murtagh found his voice and said, "What if I do not follow your instructions?"

Galbatorix sneered, "Then, you will suffer as you have never been before. Your oaths inevitably bind your services to me... _forever_. You know you cannot change anymore, Murtagh. What you are now... is what you'll be for the rest of your life."

Murtagh closed his eyes. No, he could still change. A person can't stay the same forever.

* * *

_A/N:_

Sorry for the long delay, guys. I'm getting minor writer's blocks and it's extremely infuriating. I'm getting a little rusty in writing, unfortunately. But, to be honest, I also need more motivation, more "fuel" to write, if you know what I mean. I'm finding it quite hard to let the story flow, but rest assured though, I have a rough outline of what's going to happen. Now, I just need to put the pieces together... :) Wish me luck; I don't want to give up on this story... and writing in general.

Thank you for the reviews,guys- they are one of the things that keep me going in writing this story. Until the next update!

_CJ.x_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13.**

**

* * *

*********

As soon as Eragon entered the grand tent, he was instantly aware of Queen Islanzadi's direct gaze. Behind him, he heard the tent flap ruffle as he sensed Arya enter as well. They arrived no more than five minutes ago and through his link, Eragon could sense Saphira hum with contentment as elves scurried to obey her every demand. Usually, the situation would amuse Eragon, yet dread gnawed at him.

The confrontation with the Queen was no problem, but he knew he had to narrate his story, and doing so, would make him remember the torture he endured under the Twins' 'administration.' He despised recalling the horrifying memories, but he knew he had to do it. Every step he took resonated in his ears.

As he came to a halt, he bowed from the waist down as he greeted the Queen first in the Ancient Language. He looked up and saw her standing from her seat. With unconscious poise, Islanzadi ambled towards Eragon, her expression blank.

"Shadeslayer," Islanzadi said, her voice flowing with pristine clarity, returning the greeting. Eragon finished the greeting and waited for the Queen's questions.

Surprisingly, Islanzadi walked towards Arya, looking at her daughter in the eye. Arya greeted her mother in the Ancient Language and she replied in return, addressing Arya with her new title, "Shadeslayer." Arya visibly tensed at the mention her latest title but she graciously accepted her mother's praise. There was a small silence after that, and Eragon wondered what passed between the two.

Then, Islanzadi stepped away and sauntered back to her seat. From there, she observed Eragon, her expression gentle.

"Shadeslayer, I want you to recount the occurrences that have happened, right from when you were captured," the Elven Queen said, her voice unexpectedly soft.

That was it; what Eragon had been dreading to come. Inhaling a deep breath and wiping his features of any emotion, Eragon began to recall his journey; how the Twins easily managed to capture him near Carvahall- but before, Eragon could continue, Islanzadi interrupted him.

"The Twins were alive?" Islanzadi asked, her voice laced with anxiety and fear.

Eragon nodded grimly. Beside him, Arya held an impassive facade, giving no emotion away. Islanzadi gave a sigh, making no attempt to hide it. An uneasy expression settled on her face.

She glanced at no one in particular as she voiced her thoughts, "How was Galbatorix able to do this? What kind of new monstrosity has he experimented with?"

Eragon shrugged, keeping his countenance blank, "I do not know; perhaps some kind of dark magic."

Islanzadi closed her eyes, "I fear for our hopes."

Eragon shifted slightly, his back stiff from remaining in the same posture for too long. He needn't need to voice his worries. Galbatorix had grown stronger, his knowledge of dark magic mounting. Eragon felt his hopes deplete as he fully realized the enormity of Galbatorix' startling progress. _He_ had _managed_ to bring beings back to life. Such things were phenomenal... impossible.

_Or supposed to be. _Saphira said. She was situated outside the tent, seemingly content with the Elves' incessant offers and services. But, she had also been listening to Eragon's conversation through their mental link.

_With him, I am guessing not many things are impossible. _Eragon replied dismally. Saphira had no response, but her feelings echoed her Rider's.

Islanzadi stood, her cape flowing behind her. After conquering Gil'ead, she had acquired a fiery red Elven-made dress, designed to emphasize her royalty, but however, a belt circled her waist, her sword sheathed on her left hip. Royal or not, the Queen fought alongside her people. Imperial and proud, she represented her whole nation. But her hard countenance seemed to deteriorate after Eragon's revelation of the Twins.

She gestured to Eragon with her hand, "Please continue with your narration."

So, Eragon resumed right where he left off. He recalled waking up in a dark cell not knowing exactly where he was, the days that had felt like an eternity, and the brutal torture he had agonizingly experienced. During his narration, Eragon felt a sense of déjà vu; he remembered when Arya had narrated her torture in Gil'ead- the fury that had instantly rose to the surface when he heard her story. Although, this time the places were switched.

Devoid of emotion, Eragon continued his narration, but he left out fragments of his affliction which he didn't particularly want to voice out. However, from the way Arya gave him a sideways glance, he knew that she was acutely aware of the true sufferings he had went through.

Eragon tried to retain his impassive countenance, but recollecting his memories and speaking of them were proving difficult to do. The description of his tortures sounded appalling and he knew they were much worse in practice. Eragon's narration came to an end and he glanced at Arya, the faintest of smiles on his lips. He recalled seeing her blast through the door and coming to rescue him.

"Then, Saphira flew us out of the area and Arya healed my injuries," Eragon paused, "I took a while to recover, but Arya healed me well."

Beside him, Eragon noticed Arya tense subtly, but her features were expressionless. Islanzadi rose from her seat yet again, her cape billowing behind her. Eragon was aware that there was no particular gust of wind inside the tent, but the Queen's cape seemed to ripple as if the wind was blowing it every time she stood.

"Thank you for your narration, Eragon," Islanzadi paused, giving him a mild look, "It must have been difficult to recollect such terrible memories."

Eragon said nothing, but only tilted his head. There was a short silence.

"I had something to say to your thoughtless decision to pursue the Twins, but," Islanzadi paused, eyeing Eragon with what he perceived as mercy, "I will say no more on the matter. What is done is done. But next time Eragon, do deliberate the consequences of your actions."

Eragon nodded, "I apologize for my action, your Majesty, but at the time, I deemed it the right thing to do. I realize my mistake, and I have no desire to repeat it."

Islanzadi tilted her head lightly. She clasped her hands, "I presume we have no more things to discuss," She announced, "You must tarry to the Varden. Nasuada has informed me they cannot delay any longer; they are preparing to siege Belatona."

Eragon tensed at the news, alarm shooting through his body. He had not contacted the Varden leader, but a small part of him dreaded the conference. Despite his closeness to Nasuada as his vassal, he imagined her annoyance or at least her fume over his long absence.

Eragon accepted that it was his error that he remained behind and pursued the Twins, but he learnt that not releasing himself from mistakes were a misuse of time. He recognized what he did, and it was folly, but the mistake was the past. Given the circumstances, he had no time to linger over it; he needs to do whatever needs to be done to defeat Galbatorix.

"The siege will commence in two days. I assume that you will be able to reach the Varden on time?" Islanzadi said, her voice now deprived of the hopelessness she held earlier. Her tone acquired a methodical approach, her countenance forming into one of seamless authority. The real presentation of a Queen.

"Of course," Eragon replied. The Elven queen nodded, her slanted eyes on the Rider.

In that small instant, she seemed to _really _observe him, her eyes studious, appearing intimidating. _Almost. _Unwilling to waver from the Queen's stare, Eragon met her gaze steadily, pondering over why she paid him unusual attention.

Then, as if a wire snapped, Islanzadi's eyes flickered to Arya, studying her with the same intent as she had been with him. Despite their mother-daughter past, Eragon noticed a delicate change between the two. Eragon expected Arya to tense under her mother's gaze, but she just met her stare composedly with her own.

Islanzadi drew herself upright, withdrawing her attention from Arya. The Queen's eyes obtained an intrigued gleam, although her lips were set in a straight line. However, her facial expression subtly altered to one of... _acceptance_. Eragon restrained any confusion or emotion to appear on his features.

"I suggest you depart," Islanzadi said and turned to Arya briefly, "I presume you will tell Nasuada the rest of our previous discussion?"

"Of course," Arya said.

Islanzadi faced Eragon, "Shur'tugal, I want to reaffirm our resolute loyalty and faith on you, on behalf of my people. Although I admit you are indeed reckless and adamantly stubborn-" A small smile appeared on Eragon's face, "You have proved yourself worthy as the symbol of the Varden's hope. You have surprised us all, Shadeslayer."

Eragon bowed, "Thank you, your majesty."

Islanzadi nodded and indicated for them to leave the tent. Although nearest to the tent exit, Eragon slowed his pace, allowing Arya and Islanzadi to exit first. It was a simple act of courtesy, but as Arya passed him, he thought he saw her expression harden. Unable to help his natural reaction, Eragon felt as if an old scar was ripped open. But as quickly as it showed on his face, he swiftly hid it.

...

After assisting Eragon and Saphira, Arya left them temporarily to make her own preparations and bid her mother farewell. Reluctantly, she admitted that she wouldn't normally do such a thing, but a sharp impulse made her do so. She ambled over to her mother, who stood behind a perfectly-lined group of warriors. Arya had no doubt that three or four of those warriors were also formidable spellcasters.

Seeing her daughter's approach, Islanzadi's indicated privacy. Swiftly and smoothly, her warriors relocated themselves several steps away.

"I didn't think you'd find him, Arya," Islanzadi said, her tone low. They stood outside her mother's tent, and numerous yards away, Eragon and Saphira were still preparing.

"Fate smiled upon me." Arya replied softly.

"It _has_ indeed," Islanzadi added ingenuously, her tone belying something else. Arya knew that her mother's use of present and not the past hinted that she was referring to something else entirely different. Eyes flashing with curiosity, Arya glanced at Islanzadi, whose expression appeared innocent, but her eyes indicated anything but.

Daring not to prompt her mother further, Arya tilted her head, "We must go."

A sombre expression surfaced to Islanzadi's features, "When we next meet, I hope it will be at the gates of Uru'baen, daughter."

Arya nodded and allowed the smallest of smiles, "Farewell, mother."

With that, she walked away, heading to Eragon who was crouched over, examining Saphira's wings. Arya couldn't help but grin as their mental voices filled her head.

_...I am fine, Eragon, _Saphira asserted. _If you do not stop this, I will drop you in Lake Isenstar. _

_Is that a threat?_ Arya sensed a smile in his words.

_I believe it is, _Saphira confirmed playfully.

_You wouldn't dare. _Eragon said as he straightened himself, _Besides, you'd regret it. You'd come _grovelling _for my forgiveness. _

Saphira snorted, a few puffs of smoke jetting from her nostrils. Finally, Arya reached them, her pack over her left shoulder. She let her eyes wander to Eragon.

As if sensing her, Eragon turned around, wiping his hands on his trousers. Briefly, their eyes met before Arya indicated to the sapphire dragon, "Saphira's threat isn't very easy to ignore."

Eragon grinned a little, "Well, lucky for me, I don't take it too seriously."

_Not when I threatened to fill your tent with dead carrion, _Saphira interjected, showing her sharp teeth.

Eragon flinched as he recalled the memory, "I guess not _all _of your threats then."

Saphira snorted again, and unfurled her wings, almost hitting Eragon in the head with the tip of her right wing. _I am eager to fly, let us go. _

Eragon and Arya complied, mounting Saphira without any more hesitation. As Arya's arms settled around Eragon's waist, she whispered lightly in his ear, "You better not let her do what she did earlier."

The comment was so unexpected, so unlike Arya, that Eragon found himself smiling, "No, I won't. Although she might find something else to do."

Arya didn't say anything to his response, so Eragon remained silent. Looking around, Eragon glimpsed the Elves and Queen Islanzadi one last time. Oddly, Eragon found himself raising his right hand and giving a brief wave. As Saphira shot off to the sky, Eragon heard a few of the Elves singing the same melody as they once did when he left Ellesmera for Farthen Dur. It was a poignant harmony that rose to a higher pitch as they soared into the clouds.

**-x-**

_Freedom. _

Temporary_ freedom. _Thorn corrected as he flew over the dark buildings of Uru'baen. Galbatorix had finally dispatched them after giving them a quick briefing. Murtagh had considered the whole task a challenge. Would the Varden believe them once they presented themselves as "allies?" Would Eragon attempt to destroy them? Would he listen? _Knowing him, _Murtagh thought wistfully, _he would probably have no hesitation in trying to kill us. _

As they finally flew past Uru'baen's dark city gates in companionable silence, Murtagh felt as if a part of him has ultimately been released. A torrent of emotions flooded him and for the first time in a long time, he smiled. A small part of him started planning his attempts at permanently escaping Galbatorix, but the sensation of flying freely obliterated his scattered thoughts. Thorn hadn't spoken, but Murtagh felt contentment through their link as they flew higher into the clouds.

The wind whipped Murtagh's dark hair back and he revelled at the sensation. It was cold air, but it was what made it all the more refreshing. Just then, the white clouds parted, allowing the sunlight to bathe them in its warmth. Flying even higher, Thorn's head pierced through a patch of clouds and a pulse of happiness exchanged through their link. Murtagh could see glimpses of the green land below them, but clouds intermittently drifted to cover his view. Thorn let out a mighty roar as they plummeted towards the ground.

Murtagh laughed openly, unequivocal joy filling him. Despite the dreadful task they were sent to do, Murtagh cherished every free moment they were away from Galbatorix. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to release themselves from their oaths. But the prospect was bordering impossible and Murtagh sighed at the notion of even _attempting _it.

Clearing his thoughts and wanting to enjoy the flight, Murtagh slightly leaned back as Thorn steadily continued his pace. Reverently, Murtagh gazed at the pouch infront of him, in which the green dragon egg was safely wrapped. Observing it reminded him of when he first glimpsed Thorn as a dragon egg. It was the most stirring moment in his life.

He remembered walking through a long, dark hall; the marble walls were lined with blazing torches. Along each torch, a guard stood; he recalled their impassive expressions, but underneath those expected facades, he had sensed fear among them. What was daunting about guarding such magnificence was beyond him. Innocently, Murtagh had walked towards the fiery red dragon egg and laid his palm on it. It was as if a monumental explosion had burst within him, through his whole body, mind and soul. That day, an irrevocable bond had been formed, and neither he, nor Thorn could have averted it.

Despite their forced slavery, Murtagh would never trade his fate. In Thorn, he had found real solace, company and friendship. In this grim world, sometimes, Fate presented you with unexpected gifts at unexpected times.

Suddenly, through the link, Murtagh felt as if a tremendous bright pulsation pervaded their minds. In all its vividness, Murtagh felt the undeniable sense of power. Instinctively, Murtagh felt his mind rapidly raise formidable walls, his mental barriers tightening to a meticulously practiced stronghold.

Murtagh secured the straps of his saddle to the egg pouch and prepared himself for his unexpected opponent. Galbatorix had removed all the Eldunarya from Murtagh; all a part of his "seamless" plan. For the first time in a long period, Murtagh feared his opponent. The withdrawal of several dragons aiding him strength felt odd, but he felt a sense of familiarity as the vast mind continued to seek them.

Even though their opponent suspected to be a fearsome one, Murtagh straightened in his saddle and concentrated on his adversary's mind. And in the mind's shadow, Murtagh sensed another, but it was less bright. Nonetheless, it held the same amount of prowess... strength.

_Prepare yourself, Thorn, _Murtagh told his dragon, as Thorn seeked out the two vast minds.

Murtagh had a flash of familiarity as they drew closer. He _knew_ this mind. He had been close with this being once. Thorn searched through his memories, probing for any information about their opponent. With the aid of his dragon, a name suddenly leapt unbidden to Murtagh's lips. His eyes widened.

"_Eragon." _

**-x-**

Eragon felt a vast mind as soon as his consciousness touched it. Instantly, he went on high alert- Saphira likewise. Behind him, Eragon felt Arya tense. He knew she felt it too. Silence reined the air for a while before Eragon mentally conversed with Saphira, _Follow my lead. _

She felt her agreement through their link as Saphira descended from the clouds, searching for her targets.

_Do you know who could it be? _Eragon asked Arya as Saphira continued to seek them out. Through their link, Eragon could envision a blinking target in Saphira's mind-radar as she flew towards its direction.

_No, _Arya replied after a while, confusion seeping through her link with his. Vigilance snapped on them both as Saphira rocketed past clouds towards their objective.

_When we are near enough, I want you to land, _Eragon told Saphira.

Abruptly, confusion flashed through their link before Saphira comprehended the situation. She would find it difficult to manoeuvre efficiently with two people on her back. They would need to drop off Arya first. Eragon told Arya their plan and she tersely agreed. In a brief instant, Eragon felt Arya's sense of powerlessness if she remained on the ground, incapable of physically helping him. Eragon felt his lips form a small smile at her thought. Knowing her, Eragon knew Arya despised not being able to make herself useful in battles.

And as if confirming his thoughts, Arya said mentally, _I will aid you my strength from the ground. _

Eragon agreed. As soon as Saphira sensed their adversary close, she plummeted downwards and came to a gentle glide, a few feet off the ground. Eragon felt Arya lift herself from the saddle and she gracefully leapt off, landing without a sound.

Her soft emerald eyes were a contrast to her hardened expression as she gazed at Eragon, "Be careful."

Eragon nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. With her voluminous wings, Saphira ascended higher, gaining more altitude. Concentrating on their objective, Eragon closed his eyes and prepared his mind. Prudently, he constructed steel, mental walls to guard his psyche, while also allowing a part of it to connect to Arya's. Her hum of thoughts intensified as Eragon solidified their link. But she dimmed it and Eragon also felt her compose walls of her own.

Through his bond with Saphira, and with his own focus, Eragon felt the other mind approach closer. A sense of familiarity washed over him and it took him a few heartbeats to recognize his opponent.

_Murtagh. _

Confirming his adversary's identity, breaking from a cluster of dark clouds, Murtagh and Thorn emerged like a trail of inferno. Thorn's fiery scales glimmered as the sunlight caught his movements. Perched on Thorn's back was Murtagh, whose expression appeared bewildered. Through his links, Eragon felt surprise from both females.

Instantly, Eragon's mind went numb as he prepared to attack. All his training and education filled his mind, and Eragon felt pieces of his consciousness latch on effective assaults to execute. Eragon had mixed feelings towards his half-brother but all his rage accumulated to the surface as he recalled Oromis and Glaedr slain physically by Murtagh and Thorn.

As if sensing his imminent attack; in the Ancient Language, Murtagh yelled, "Stop!"

Ignoring his sentence, Saphira advanced rapidly, her wings slicing through the air effortlessly. Bellowing in fury, accompanied by Saphira's thunderous roar, Eragon unsheathed Brisingr just as Saphira swooped down to attack Thorn. Just as both dragon and Rider rushed to strike, Eragon attacked mentally, ramming into Murtagh's mental barrier with tremendous force.

Seemingly stunned by their appearance and hasty attack, Murtagh barely had the time to pull out Za'roc from its sheath and block Eragon's mighty blow. Thorn swerved, scarcely avoiding Saphira's sharp teeth.

Mental-wise, Murtagh was able to defend himself efficiently, blocking Eragon's ruthless assaults. Both minds were immediately locked on a stalemate and neither could pervade one's mind.

...

Murtagh was impressed at Eragon's adept manoeuvres; his ability with the sword was exemplary. Even though in the midst of a spar, Murtagh couldn't help but admire Eragon's remarkable blue sword. From the first glance, Murtagh knew it was a Rider's sword.

His thought quickly dissipated as Saphira came in from the rear and snapped at Thorn's left wing. Growling, Thorn manoeuvred away from the sapphire dragon, twisting in a half circle. Through their bond, Murtagh felt his dragon's pain and he winced in displeasure as Saphira furiously attempted to rip off Thorn's wing.

Despite their task and knowing he could easily tell Eragon to stop, Murtagh's thrill to fight against a worthy opponent was too much to disregard. Straightening in his saddle, Murtagh raised Za'roc and Thorn twisted away just as Saphira came in from the flank. Swiftly, Thorn spun in a clock-wise direction rapidly going from under Saphira to crash into her right side. As soon as the two dragons met contact, Murtagh brought Za'roc from his side to slash at Eragon.

Adroitly flicking Za'roc away, Eragon returned a furious strike with his own. His strength perturbed Murtagh and his prowess was difficult to equal. However, Murtagh matched his speed; he shifted in his saddle just as Eragon leaned in to attack and elbowed him on the jaw. Breaking away, Saphira flew upwards after managing to crack a few of Thorn's bones in several places. Globules of dragon blood poured from Thorn's wound, and through the bond, Murtagh felt Thorn's ache, yet his dragon still pursued Saphira and tried to snap at her neck.

But, the sapphire dragon veered her head away as her body swept into Thorn's side. The collision was fierce, causing both Riders to slide on their saddles. Instantly, sparks flew as red and blue swords met. Determination exuded from Eragon as he went into a series of offensive movements. The combinations were sharp; deadly.

But Murtagh was just as competent, his blade perfectly deflecting his assaults. He almost laughed at their flawless sparring, neither one gaining the advantage, nor falling into a disadvantage. Just then, Eragon flicked his sword and twisted his wrist suddenly, catching an opening on Murtagh's right hip. Seizing the opportunity, Eragon deftly brought his sword across. Piercing through his armour, Murtagh felt the incisive sting and his arm briefly faltered as he deflected Eragon's next jab.

Detaching from Saphira's grip, Thorn flew towards the ground. Drawing strength from Za'roc's pommel, Murtagh healed Thorn's wounds and his own. Barely finishing his spell, Murtagh saw the shadow as Saphira descended on them. Like a predator swooping to catch its prey, Thorn could hardly evade Saphira as she endeavoured to bite his tail. Then, searing the air behind him, Murtagh felt a boiling spear of intense fire. Blue flames enveloped them and Murtagh suppressed a cry.

Evading the scorching heat, Thorn spiralled out of his flight and abruptly twisted his body, causing Saphira to crash into his left wing. The impact was forceful and Murtagh raised Za'roc and managed to cut Saphira on the base of her neck. Roaring in pain, the sapphire dragon unfurled her wings, the air carrying them away. For a brief second, Murtagh caught a hold of his breath and healed the blisters he received from the dragon's fiery breath.

After no more than a few seconds, Saphira swooped down again, growling in anticipation. Her jaw snapped at Thorn's body but he swung his muscular tail around, managing to strike Saphira's neck. Hissing, Saphira kicked Thorn away with her hind legs and released a jet of blue fire. But Murtagh had managed to imbue a spell when he had previously healed Thorn, which allowed the flames to pass harmlessly on either side of his dragon. Releasing an inferno of his own, Thorn roared a scorching fire but Saphira distanced herself away from him. Changing direction, Thorn dove down.

Murtagh calculated the distance from his saddle to the ground and he waited patiently until he was close enough. Saphira's shadow grew larger as she gradually closed in on Thorn, but he remained resolute and kept his distance. Promptly, Murtagh sent Thorn his plans and soon unlatched the straps on his saddle securing his feet, after sensing Thorn's reluctant compliance. Rapidly approaching the ground, Thorn unfurled his wings just as Murtagh heaved himself off his saddle.

Directing himself with magic, Murtagh shot upwards, his sword raised. Taken by surprise, Saphira started to shoot past him, but Murtagh had timed his movements perfectly; his sword sliced through Eragon's straps as Saphira was unable to change her direction so suddenly.

In a fleeting moment, Murtagh seemed suspended in the air as Eragon slipped from his own saddle.

With swift alacrity, Murtagh brought his sword down on Eragon's side as they levelled on the air. Eragon barely repelled Murtagh's strike; the action proving to be a mistake as the force of the deflection caused Eragon to spin in the air. With no prior plan on his movements to balance himself, Eragon whirled around. However, with a burst of energy he had managed to distance himself significantly away from Murtagh.

Below them, Murtagh sensed Thorn and Saphira grappling somewhere close, but not close enough to catch them as they resumed plummeting. The ground seemed to be eager as it approached them, but Murtagh had executed his instantaneous plan seamlessly. He had intoned the right spell to substantially decrease his speed, while Eragon continued to fall with unrelenting velocity.

_Come on, Eragon. _Murtagh thought to himself as he watched his friend carry on plunging to the ground. Murtagh had a spell prepared for Eragon, but he wanted to know just how proficient Eragon was.

He had proved himself a master swordsman during their earlier spar; the evidence vanishing after Murtagh healed the deep wound on his hip. But, through their mental stalemate, Murtagh sensed Eragon's fleeting panic, yet he was determined to think of a spell to decrease his fall. Despite the situation, when Murtagh probed to attack Eragon's mind, his mental steel walls were inexorable. Without his Eldunarya, he couldn't get past Eragon's mental guards.

Murtagh glanced below them, approximately calculating a distance of fifty metres between Eragon's position and the ground. Just as Murtagh was about to intone a spell which would significantly reduce Eragon's dangerous descent; Eragon abruptly suspended himself in mid-air. As if lying on an imaginary floor, Eragon's arms and legs were level, his sword hanging by his side. Murtagh smiled as his feet touched the ground. Temporarily unbalanced from his earlier stunt, he leaned on Za'roc's pommel for his support. A few moments later, Eragon gradually descended to the floor. His expression was stunned, and Murtagh sensed his stunt had startled him beyond anything. Similar to Murtagh's reaction of the ground, Eragon's knees wobbled and he rested his elbow on his sword's pommel for assist.

Murtagh observed Eragon closely for the first time and like their last encounter, Murtagh was taken aback by the numerous physical changes that blatantly altered Eragon's face. The most obvious feature that was modified was Eragon's ears, which were as tapered as Elves. Although all Riders gradually acquired elfin-like features; with Eragon, it seemed as if the process had been sped up. Murtagh also noted Eragon's eyes had slightly slanted, similar to the elves. The physical changes proved to be a reminder that Murtagh no longer knew who Eragon truly was. He had the same air of determination and power around him, yet Murtagh felt as if the Eragon he knew had grown and matured, no longer like what he remembered long ago.

For a few more seconds, neither moved, both hastily trying to compose themselves. Eragon seemed to have collected himself first and he suddenly drew upright, his sword coming down on an arch above Murtagh's head. Astonished at his dexterity, Murtagh leapt out of the way, just in time to evade his swift blade. His own instincts guiding his movements, Murtagh struck back with the same speed, Za'roc sweeping across the air with a sharp whistle. As the swords collided, Murtagh was impressed at Eragon's strength. Truly, without the Eldunarya, he realized the strength Eragon held; it was colossal.

Attacking in a flurry of movements, Eragon weaved and twisted his body like a coiling snake, his blue blade darting at every side. Falling into the deadly dance of the swords, Murtagh was pushed back to a defensive; Eragon left him no time to strike back. Sweat beaded Murtagh's forehead and his dark hair stuck to his face as he barely twisted out of the way in time to avoid Eragon's lunge.

As Eragon pounced on him, Murtagh nimbly sidestepped, and struck Eragon on the jaw with Za'roc's pommel. The blow impacted Eragon but he softened it by leaning back, and unexpectedly struck him back on the jaw with his right foot. Staggering back, Murtagh quickly regained composure, twirling Za'roc in a swift movement and striking at Eragon's waist.

To Murtagh, time seemed to stretch as they continued to spar, their breathing turning laborious yet their movements denied the fact that they were tired. Eragon was continuing in the same pace he started out with and he didn't give any indication of stopping. Suddenly, Murtagh made a fatal mistake and lunged too soon as Eragon stepped back. Bringing his blue sword down on his arm, Murtagh thought that his arm was going to be sliced, yet the pain he felt was not equivalent to a wound.

Eragon had twisted his blade at the last minute, and only struck Murtagh's shoulder with his sword's pommel. There was a resounding crack as Murtagh felt his shoulder dislocate. Grunting in pain, Murtagh shoved Eragon away. Holding his hand which showed his burning palm, he said in the Ancient Language, "Stop, Eragon."

Eyes widening with surprise and confusion, Eragon lowered his sword slightly, which was poised over Murtagh's other arm, "Why?"

Wearing a blank expression, Murtagh replied, "I have decided to join you."

Stunned into silence, Eragon couldn't contain his dumbfounded expression. Through his bond with Thorn, Murtagh sensed Saphira abruptly stop her attacks. Thorn distanced himself away from her but he remained airborne, carefully watching Saphira.

"If that is indeed your intention," Eragon said after finding his speech, "then why did you attack us?"

Murtagh wanted to shrug, but his injured shoulder prevented him to do so, "I was curious."

"Of what?" Eragon demanded, his sword rising.

"Who was better," Murtagh said simply. At least that part of his confession was true.

Eragon seemed to deliberate his words, but he didn't lower his sword yet. "You cannot escape from Galbatorix."

"I can't. This is temporary..." Murtagh trailed, "Though with your help, it could be permanent." Galbatorix had told Murtagh exactly what to say and he didn't miss a word.

Surprise flashed across Eragon's features, but then his expression turned to one of fury, "You killed Oromis!"

It was Murtagh's turn to become livid, "It was not by my choice!"

Seemingly frustrated, Eragon brought his sword down on the ground. It produced a great thud and a tense silence filled the air. Murtagh healed his shoulder silently, and took a few steps away from Eragon. For a few slow seconds, neither moved, only stared at each other; Eragon's expression one with fume whilst Murtagh's was one of acceptance. He accepted Eragon's anger, but he will not allow himself to be blamed for something which he had held no power to.

Suddenly, Murtagh heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed, and he barely had the time to parry the weighty blow. Staggering at the intensity of the hit, he glimpsed his attacker. Undeniably beautiful, a sense of familiarity swept across Murtagh as he recognized the elf he and Eragon had rescued long ago in Gil'ead. Standing with imposing authority and perceptible fierceness, the dark-haired elf twisted her body to the other side, bringing her elfin blade down on Murtagh's head.

It was a deft movement, one which surprised him. Murtagh raised his sword to block it, but when he heard the sound of metal hitting metal, he didn't feel his sword take on its impact. Beside him, Eragon stood, his eyes on the beautiful elf. It was his sword that stopped hers.

"No, Arya," Eragon spoke softly.

_Ah, Arya, _Murtagh remembered now. _That was the elf's name. _

With great reluctance, the elf brought her sword down, but the effort to do so seemed to be tremendously huge on her part. Murtagh stood stiffly at the centre, his eyes assessing the elf. There was an air about her that seemed to emanate danger, and Murtagh didn't doubt that one bit. Elves were formidable beings, experts on combat and magic.

"He has much to answer for!" The elf's melodical voice rose to a near shout at the end of her sentence. She glared at Murtagh venomously.

"_Galbatorix_ has much to answer for." Murtagh corrected for her.

In a nimble, fluid movement, the elf swiftly brought the tip of her sword upon his throat. Immediately, he batted her sword away and leapt back, scowling at the elf. He decided that she was highly temperamental. Instantly, Eragon stepped between the two, and glowered at him. "Galbatorix certainly does, but you have your share," Eragon seethed.

Before he could retort, Eragon shook his head, "What makes you think we can trust you?"

Behind him, the elf muttered a curse in the Ancient Language, and Murtagh was inclined to push Eragon out the way so he could strike the damn elf. Eragon kept a cool gaze on him as he waited for his answer. Murtagh didn't turn his back on the duo and he called for Thorn. It was time to convince them that he was an ally._ Temporarily, of course, _Thorn muttered as he descended from the clouds and landed beside Murtagh.

Saphira also came to land beside Eragon. The sapphire dragon's stance was one of protectiveness; she bared her sharp teeth at Murtagh, a snarl ripping from her.

Murtagh glanced at Eragon and Arya who seemed to have taken a few steps towards Saphira, but their stances told him that if he or Thorn did something particularly unwise, they would not hesitate to pounce on them. Quickly, Eragon checked Saphira for any injuries, while the elf kept her wary eyes on him. Leisurely, Murtagh made his way to his saddle where the dragon egg was safely kept. Murtagh had made sure that it was greatly secured before he had performed his stunt. Carefully, Murtagh unfastened the safety straps tying the pouch and gently held it in his hands.

Briefly, he gave Thorn a fleeting glance; _Do you think they'll believe us?_

_Well, the dragon egg should make them deliberate. _

Murtagh didn't reply and walked towards the two. Eragon's expression was one of utter disbelief, while the elf was still glaring at him. He ignored her and shifted his gaze on the pouch. Even though an imbecile could figure out what was in the pouch, Murtagh loosened its straps and the cloth slowly slipped, revealing the green dragon egg.

There was a sharp intake of breath and Murtagh looked up to see their expressions. Murtagh had the pleasure of catching the elf with sheer shock and Eragon's expression was one of astonishment.

Murtagh seized the opportunity to talk, "It was difficult to obtain, but... I managed."

A lie.

Eragon frowned, "You survived escaping Galbatorix, but you also managed to acquire the dragon egg?"

Stepping from behind Eragon, the elf pointed her sword at him, "If you have really come to join the Varden, then allow me or Eragon to examine your mind."

Momentarily, Murtagh faltered, but he recalled Galbatorix intoning a complicated enchantment to hide his bond with him, but he was still reluctant to let anyone probe his mind. Baring his soul was not exactly one of his desires to accomplish in life.

Shaking his head, Murtagh covered the dragon egg with the cloth and said, "Although I am offering my alliance, I will not tolerate anyone examining my mind."

"Then we have no use of you," the elf declared, bringing her sword to his chest, "We could easily overpower you and take the dragon egg." Eragon made no move to stop her this time.

Murtagh wanted to ignore the elf, but she made a good threat. However, he foresaw the complications this task would bring and he knew the responses he had to make. But first, he wanted to give his own retort. "I did not escape Uru'baen just to be killed by an _elf,_" Murtagh spat the word, "But it was not my choice to side with Galbatorix. My bond with _him_ is temporarily disconnected, and I want to use the time to change my ways and perhaps alter my True Name."

Murtagh's speech was not suppose to be emotive, but as he spoke the words, his sentiments leaked into his voice. He turned away from them, hiding the pain in his eyes. Despite his speech, he knew any chance of escaping Galbatorix' slavery were exceptionally implausible. In spite of the dark King allowing him transitory freedom, he understood that his time was truly ephemeral. Indeed, he had considered the attempt to modify his true name, but doing so presented many intricacies; Galbatorix would sense it if his True Name was changing, and if he somehow managed to evade Galbatorix' scrutiny, how would he even begin to change his ways?

He had already endeavoured to amend his ways, his lifestyle. The possibility of transforming himself was simply beyond him. While he didn't know where he exactly stood with the Empire and the Varden, he knew he didn't want to die trying to pursue something which he believed very little in. Self-preservation was a quality of his that he could never purely disregard. Selfish that may be, but it was a part of who he was. Undertaking the effort to outwit Galbatorix was incredulous. Hell, the whole notion of his stemming ideas was simply absurd.

...

Arya glanced at Eragon, searching his eyes for an answer, though still keeping her sword poised at Murtagh's chest. One push and the blade would penetrate his armour and into his heart. Admittedly, she would not hesitate to do so. However, she could not deny the hope that surfaced to Murtagh's voice as he spoke his words. Her sympathy welled for him, but instantaneously, resentment replaced it. Despite his slavery to Galbatorix, Arya knew the atrocities Murtagh committed. And they were not to be taken lightly.

A heavy moment passed as nothing but silence and apprehension filled the air. Then, Arya saw Eragon's answer flash into his features. She constrained a sigh.

"You will explain your situation to Nasuada, and she will determine your future," Eragon winced, "Although I may be a Rider, she is my liege lord, and I will not assume decisions that she may not approve of."

During his speech, in her peripheral vision, Arya noticed Murtagh's subtle flinch when Nasuada's name was mentioned. She ignored it.

Eragon's decision to accept Murtagh's offer as an ally, albeit indirectly, frustrated Arya. She didn't trust the Red Rider, or at least she was reluctant to. Dragon egg or not, his attitude didn't impress her. Arya glanced at Eragon, and she was surprised to see him gazing at her with a gentle expression.

_We have to hear what he says to Nasuada, _He told her mentally, his emotions tightly guarded on the matter, but Arya sensed them. He was as reluctant as her to trust him, but she knew Eragon. He had revealed to her not so long ago, that he had found his limit;

'_I will kill in war. But I won't take it upon myself to decide who lives and who dies. I don't have the experiences or the wisdom. Every man has a line he won't cross, Arya, and I found mine when I looked upon Sloan. Even if I had Galbatorix as my captive, I would not kill him. I would take him to Nasuada and King Orrin, and if they condemned him to death, then I would happily lop of f his head, but not before. Call it weakness if you will, but that is how I am made, and I won't apologize for it.'_

Arya had accused him of being a tool to be wielded of others. Yet he had replied with his own valid reason; _'I will serve the people as best I can. I've never aspired to lead. Alagaesia does not need another tyrant king.'_

He had surprised her with his answer, but Arya saw his logic. It made the matter complicated, but when Eragon was determined on a decision, she knew he'll be adamant on the situation. She accepted Eragon's decision, despite her own burning vehemence towards Murtagh. Feeling the tension ease somewhat slightly, Arya lowered her blade, her expression instantly impassive. She stepped away from Murtagh to fall beside Eragon and Saphira.

Inhaling deeply, Eragon gestured to Murtagh and Thorn, "When we reach the Varden, I advise you to prepare yourselves. Your presence will not be welcomed lightly."

Murtagh smirked darkly, "We expect that."

"If you try anything foolish," Eragon warned, "I will _not_ delay."

The rest of the sentence was unspoken, but Arya knew Eragon would not falter in executing his half-brother. The seriousness of his voice assured her that. Murtagh tilted his head, acknowledging the caution.

_Before we get moving, I suggest you find your saddle first, _Saphira suddenly interjected, her voice extending to Eragon.

Arya recalled the Riders' earlier dispute, one which included the disappearance of Eragon's saddle. When Arya saw Eragon falling from the sky, her reaction had startled her. She vaguely remembered her heart pounding loud enough that she hadn't heard anything but its hard beating. She recollected the memory of herself, running across the wide expanse of land, fearing that Eragon may be dead...

It dragged her back into her familiar self-conflict, persuading herself that her worry had been purely because of Eragon being the last free Rider, their last hope. But a small quiet thought stemming from her heart told her she was wrong. It evoked her buried sentiment and she hid her pained expression as Eragon glanced at her, a smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry for the delay," He said faintly as he stepped around her, "I'm sure it landed somewhere over there..." His mumble faded as he sprinted towards its location.

Arya turned around to find Murtagh already perched on Thorn, securing the pouch in which the dragon egg was wrapped in. She fixed her wary eyes on the Red Rider, her attentiveness causing him to look up. "You know," Murtagh said suddenly, a smirk plastered on his face, "A small part of me regret helping Eragon save you when we were in Gil'ead."

Behind Arya, Saphira growled in warning, but she stopped her. "Well, I guess that was another mistake of yours," Arya said.

Murtagh opened his mouth to say something, no doubt to say something unkind, but Eragon arrived, with the saddle safely in his arms. Arya helped him as they both secured the saddle on Saphira's back. With a big leap, Eragon landed on her back, immediately offering his hand to Arya. But smiling faintly, she imitated Eragon's earlier action, although with more grace, and she glided down behind him. Tightly encircling her arms around him, she said quietly, "Nice jump."

Eragon glanced at her quickly, smiling back. It was as if Murtagh was barely even there, and the moment was short-lived as Eragon shifted his gaze on Murtagh. Arya distinguished his expression snapping back to a blank one.

"Keep the warning in mind," He said as Saphira unfurled her wings and shot upwards. Thorn followed. Sapphire and ruby streaked the sky as both dragons flew into the clouds.

* * *

**_A/N:_**

_So, there's the chapter. Hope you guys liked it. _

_Replies to the reviews:_

_XxWeixX, lonewolfrox624, Dragonlady, ; Thank you for your reviews!_

_TCMoore; Haha, I think your sentence worked. It's gone... at least for now. _

_Tibby09296; Yes, I dislike the way I wrote the first few chapters of this story, but I hope to edit them sometime. The first several chapters (up to Chapter 7 to be exact), were written in my earlier period of writing, thus the slight sketchiness and detail. Well, I hope I didn't disappoint you with this chapter! Hehe. ;)  
Thank you for your review._

_Dr. Atom bomb; Thank you! Aw, sorry couldn't update any faster. This is as fast as I can go updating for now. Yup, I hope to improve at every chapter I write. _

_Adrine R.227; Thank you! Yeah, writers' block are horrible; but fortunately, the major ones are gone now, only minor ones, which is good. __  
Great, exactly what I was aiming for. Murtagh and Thorn will have more frequent POV on the upcoming chapters. I was hesitant in writing their perspectives at first, but it turned out to be easier than I thought. The words flowed right from my mind.  
I hope the plot will be intriguing enough for you! =) Oh, what are your doubts?  
Thanks for the review!_

_Rosebud1990; As always, thank you for your ceaseless support. I hope this chapter didn't fail to rise to your expectations._

_Kivey; Man? Lol. Thanks for the advice, yes, I read a few FF stories, and surprisingly, they did boost my motivation to write and the blocks have more or less faded. I already listen to music when I write, but any suggestions to songs I could listen to? _

_Thank you for the reviews, guys! Next chapter should be up by the end of summer vacation (which, for me, is in a week and a half's time). I'm utterly amazed at everyone's appreciation of the story, thanks guys, for the reviews and support. _

_CJ.x _


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14  
**

_Erm... hey guys. I apologize for the very long delay. But here is the chapter. ^_^  
_

_

* * *

_

Throughout the whole flight, Murtagh kept silent. Not once had he uttered a word to Eragon nor the elf. He simply kept his head high, watching the clear sky ahead of him. The sun had disappeared behind a thick cluster of clouds, and the light around them dimmed significantly. Saphira was flying at a hasty speed, shooting past the clouds in strained silence.

They had stopped briefly earlier; the elf remarking that she had to warn Nasuada of their arrival. Murtagh had feigned yet another expression of nonchalance as _her _name was mentioned.

Murtagh could deny it all he wanted, but the excitement surging through him was almost overwhelming. The task, however complicated and dangerous it may prove, brought him a sense of thrill. But at every flap of Thorn's wings, echoed the increasing pounding of his heartbeat.

He was to see Nasuada.

The anticipation to see her and talk to her was accompanied by the slight fear of what she had expected him to become. As anxious as he was to what her reaction might be, Murtagh could not help but feel excited to see her.

However, as they flew towards their destination, it dawned on Murtagh that the woman he had met could have possibly changed. Undoubtedly, anyone who rose to leadership would have been hardened by its difficulty. Burdened with the responsibilities and countless decisions, he feared that the lovely girl he had met had probably turned into an impassive and fierce woman. Murtagh had already discerned Nasuada as a delicate woman, yet she had an aura of unyielding determination about her. He decided that he liked that. But he fervently hoped that she would not act so indifferently towards him.

Needing to shift his attention somewhere else, Murtagh gazed at the pouch infront of him, in which the green dragon egg was kept. This was the epitome of his task. It seemed as if his life would depend on it. Presenting himself as an ally was not enough; this dragon egg would hopefully prove to win the Varden over, or at least their leader. Murtagh deliberated his chances. It would be a very close decision, but he knew what importance he meant and ultimately, what the dragon egg signified. Another Dragon Rider and a dragon egg would be too much to pass by; he would be safe.

Or so he thought.

As soon as they arrived at the Varden, soldiers who were in vicinity and sight of him, released volleys of arrows. Boisterous shouts echoed below and a horn resounded, piercing the air sharply. Like a frightened flock of sheep's, soldiers and civilians below began to scatter everywhere; cries of panic and terror resonating in the air. A part of Murtagh was furtively satisfied by their dread, but pushing at his consciousness was a bitter shame of what he portrayed:

_Fear. _

The arrows, which were released swiftly, headed towards Thorn, their speed impressive. But they halted in mid air as Murtagh stopped them with his magic. He briefly considered sending them back to their owners, but he knew that would not be the best way to win their alliance over. So, releasing his hold on the magic, the arrows fell harmlessly below them. Ahead of him, Saphira had distanced herself away.

A mental probe caught Murtagh's attention. Although sensing it was Eragon, he was reluctant to lower his guards. After a brief hesitation, he consented, although only allowing minimum contact.

_Fly to the skies, _Eragon said, his voice fleeting through his mind, _I will contact you when the time is... right. _

Murtagh sent his agreement. Thorn swerved direction as another round of volleys dotted their surroundings. Biting back a curse, Murtagh halted the arrows' track and with a flick of his wrist, the arrows descended for the second time. Before the third round of volleys were fired, Thorn had already flew out of range and into the safety of the clouds.

**-x-**

Saphira veered towards the Varden's camp, her huge sapphire scales glittering as she descended. Lines of soldiers parted, giving way to the magnificent dragon. Eragon grounded his teeth; frustrated at the Varden's reaction. Behind him, he heard Arya mutter a curse. Nasuada had been informed of the Red Rider's arrival. Could they not follow such a simple rule?

_Peace, Eragon. _Saphira said calmly, _it might not be Nasuada's order. King Orrin approaches. _

Momentarily confused, Eragon looked ahead. Indeed, it was the Surdan King, along with his sentries, who headed towards them. The soldiers around them had either left or moved a distance away. Arya shifted from the saddle, and Eragon felt a slight twang of emptiness at the withdrawal of her arms. He leapt off, just a second after her. Arya straightened, her impassive mask slipping back on.

Saphira folded her wings, craning her long scaled neck towards the direction of the Surdan King. Eragon glanced at Arya fleetingly, and she at him; they both shared the same confusion. Why was it Orrin who approached them and not Nasuada? Before he could voice it, King Orrin had reached them.

"Welcome, Eragon Shadeslayer," He said, his tone civil, but Eragon also perceived annoyance.

His gaze left him briefly. "Arya," He nodded to her. Arya tilted her head.

"Your Highness," Eragon said, trying to keep his voice steady, "King Orrin, I thought our message was conveyed. You did not know of our arrival?"

Orrin's horse trotted forwards and he reined it in before speaking, "Yes, your message was quite clear. Nasuada had her generals inform the soldiers not to shoot when they see the Red Rider."

A tic worked on Eragon's jaw, "Then why did they shoot?"

"_I_ did not agree," Orrin said, his voice hinting authority, "I call for a meeting with_ you _involved before we declare to welcome this... _Rider _in the Varden. He could be a danger; a danger we cannot afford."

Eragon had a difficulty hiding his frustration, "I understand, your Majesty."

Orrin tilted his head at his reply, "Then come, we must discuss the matter at once."

With rigid composure's, Eragon and Arya followed. _I will find a better spot, _Saphira told him, _I will listen to the discussion through your ears. _

Eragon consented but told her to remain close in case he needed her. _I will not be far away, _Saphira replied, taking her leave.

...

Arya watched the sapphire dragon fly overhead and she glanced at Eragon. He smiled a little, "She has preferences. She will hear the discussion in my mind."

Arya nodded and looked away. She ignored the fluttering sensations at the smile he gave her. She had observed that he only had that special smile just for her.

Absentmindedly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her tapered ear just as Eragon looked at her way again. She didn't dare look back, lest she sees his smile again. It was distracting.

Turning her attention to her surroundings, Arya noted that the rest of the Varden had returned to their posts, realizing that only Orrin's personal soldiers had fired their arrows. The rest of the Varden had only been roused by the war horn that sounded earlier, presuming that the warning was for the Empire's soldiers. But they had stuck to their generals' orders, as Nasuada had notified them not to harm the Red Rider. King Orrin of course had to classify his own orders, thus the earlier assault. Arya thought the impending meeting was useless; Orrin would soon realize the importance of what Murtagh represented.

Firstly, he had the last dragon egg; this would inevitably play a huge role in whomever controlled them. The Varden had had no chance of retrieving it since Uru'baen had been made impregnable since the first and successful attempt to steal them.

Secondly, Murtagh had been in the vicinity of the dark king; he could impart imperative information on what Galbatorix' plans were. Such news would be highly valued. Perhaps, they could outsmart his tactics or in the very least, learn what he is capable of, what is his true power. Arya marvelled at the thought of discovery.

These crucial reasons were the very foundations of why the Varden should accept Murtagh as an ally. He would be no use to them dead; though Arya had had to restrain the effort to keep her sword down. She had now come to recognize and admit Murtagh's significance, but her tolerance for the Rider was yet to develop.

Arya came to a halt beside Eragon as they reached the tent. She took a quiet deep breath of fresh air, preparing for what she expected to be a long and heated discussion.

...

"The council welcomes Eragon Shadeslayer," the guard at the tent announced as the Rider entered. "And Arya Shadeslayer."

Eragon and Arya walked in, their expressions set to formal. Nasuada stood instantly, relieved by their presence. She wanted to embrace both of them, but formalities were placed and instead, she gave them a gracious tilt of her head.

"It's a pleasure to have you back with us Arya and Eragon; both safe and unharmed," She shot Orrin a look. He merely shrugged. Nasuada was infuriated with the man. Hours of discussion hadn't been enough to sway him from accepting Murtagh into the Varden. She wondered how many hours would be required to alter his view. Orrin had heatedly reasoned that allowing Murtagh into the Varden would cause uproar and open a vulnerability to the Varden.

While she knew those views would perhaps come to pass, she had reasoned to herself that the beneficial purposes of having the Red Rider as an ally of the Varden weighed heavier than the disadvantageous reasons. Orrin had come as close to shouting at her, and furious herself, she had nearly lost her cool composure. It was difficult being a leader; behaving with an irate manner would make her subjects perceive her being undisciplined of herself; therefore depicting an unstable leader. She had to tolerate herself carefully.

Eragon bowed to her, his rigid composure echoing hers. Arya imitated the gesture. Relief and a humourless smile graced her lips; Nasuada knew that their views were similar: Murtagh was to be accepted as an ally.

Nasuada sat down on her seat. Her subjects sat around a table, their features already hinting exhaustion for the upcoming discussion.

Eragon and Arya sat on the available seats, opposite her. Briefly, Nasuada noted the difference in Eragon's face; the hardened edge and the cold gleam in his eyes. She knew that the previous Eragon had changed- altered into a tough, adamant warrior. Nasuada recalled Eragon's capture; how they must have tortured him beyond ruthlessness and to the extent of insanity. Gazing into those deep, brown eyes, Nasuada saw the slight changes; even his features seemed to have hardened, making him appear older than his actual age.

Arya on the other hand, seemed much attuned to Eragon's movements. Nasuada detected that whenever Eragon shifted, Arya too would echo the movement, as if to mirror it. Finding the knowledge intriguing, but needing to focus on the withstanding situation, Nasuada cleared her throat. She stood up.

"I begin this discussion by declaring that the siege of Belatona will be delayed for the next two days," Nasuada announced, earning her a few mutters of disagreement, "The Varden needs to determine the issue regarding the Red Rider before we can progress to capture Belatona." Nasuada looked at Eragon who appeared slightly ruffled by the news. She knew that he would have expected her to go ahead with the siege, regardless of the circumstance. She nodded to him slightly, indicating that she would discuss the matter with him.

Nasuada changed the subject, "I begin the discussion concerning the Red Rider," Nasuada said smoothly, "The Council have asked for _yet_ another meeting, in which the Red Rider- Murtagh, is decided to join us or not."

Nasuada eyed her subjects levelly, "Now the majority stands at disapproval. As your leader, I welcome your views and opinions on the matter, but I myself, disagree with the withstanding majority." A grumble went through the room and Nasuada waited until silence remained.

...

"Now Eragon, our Rider, is here, I would like him to present his opinions on the matter."

Eragon shifted uncomfortably, temporarily unnerved by his audience. He despised public speaking. Quickly he gathered his thoughts and summarised them, saying, "In my humble opinion, I believe that Murtagh should be welcomed to the Varden. His alliance is as important as mine is; we need him. Put aside your hatred for the Rider and see him for his worth; his alliance is what the Varden needs. He will be of great assistance in overpowering the Empire," Eragon straightened and concluded, "I have spoken to him myself; he does not seek to wreak havoc amongst the Varden, but only asks for accordance. This much I know he requests."

Tilting his head in the conclusion of his speech, Eragon stepped back and gestured for Nasuada to take over. Some of the generals at the table murmured speculations and doubts were clearly etched on their expressions. However, some had acceptance in their countenance, which Nasuada was grateful for. From the previous discussion, it had only been one or two faces who had appeared in agreement.

For a few minutes, she let her subjects discuss and she heard few disapprovals as well as approvals. Nasuada pondered briefly if the majority would want to receive Murtagh in. Grumbling in discussions, her generals fell in silence when Orrin stood up. He looked slightly swayed, but Nasuada knew it had to take more than Eragon's word before he would be truly convinced. "Nasuada, you may call for a second round of voting, but I will decide _after _the Red Rider presents himself."

A few leaders nodded vigorously in agreement. Nasuada wanted to shout at them in frustration. Instead, she tilted her head amiably, "Of course. However, I still call for a final voting for the _decided _generals," She stood up and announced, "You have heard what our Rider has to say. I call for a final voting which would result in the _initial_ outcome of the matter:

Should the Red Rider be accepted?"

**-x-**

Murtagh idly leaned on a tree -Thorn beside him- patiently awaiting Eragon's call. As time passed by, Murtagh contemplated their situation for the umpteenth time. While he knew his intent was devious, he had no choice. He could try to outwit Galbatorix and free himself of his bonds, but like he realized before, the notion to break free was futile. Attempting it would border impossible.

Somewhere, a deep part of him abhorred the outcome of his mission. Eragon would loath him all the more and redemption of any kind with the Varden would be lost.

But at the surface of his emotions, came the thrill of freedom and excitement. When he knew that his life turned out to be an eternity of slavery, he lost all hope; the sentiment was buried deep into the confines of his soul. He would never be free as long as the tyrant king lived. While he knew Eragon to be a natural and exceptionally adept swordsman and magician, in his eyes, how could a sheep- a determined sheep in this circumstance- defeat a mighty wolf?

In terms of strength, the sheep was utterly helpless. When Murtagh had come to realize this, it was as if some part of him had died and his evil within surfaced. It frightened him at first, but then he became numb at the concept of it, and did whatever needed to be done.

He was interrupted as Thorn gave a growl of warning. Immediately, Murtagh swept his consciousness amongst the surroundings. Five soldiers were approaching them.

Tense and coiled, Murtagh drew Za'roc from his sheath and began to advance. Then he paused. A reminder of Galbatorix' ingrained words echoed in his mind. _Let your enemies come to you. _

When they landed, Murtagh had scoped and spanned the area and memorized as much as he could.

He chose a great spot; from the position they were in, if anyone came from any direction, they would not see him until it was too late. And he doubted that they would even see him. It was the tip of his sword they would see first, and he would ensure that they were either injured, bound or dead before they can lay a finger on him. A minute passed.

Murtagh swept his mind awareness amongst the trees. He briefly touched a consciousness, and it seemed vague with alarm, fear and panic. Murtagh relaxed slightly. Incoherent panic often rendered people into ineffectiveness. Despite the trivial danger the five soldiers presented, Murtagh did not ease his guard whatsoever. _Regard every enemy with the same cautiousness, for it could cost you your life. _The words that rang in his mind were from his former teacher. He had been an exceptional master.

Approaching his targets with cautious intent, he gestured to Thorn slightly, informing him that he had it under control. Murtagh sensed the first soldier lurking behind the woods, and he waited patiently in his concealed niche. No more than a minute later, the soldier emerged from a dense patch of foliage, his sword gleaming in the dimmed light. The other four were not far away.

Peering from behind his hiding spot, a thin smile graced Murtagh's lips. He held Za'roc firmly beside him, his grip tightening as the soldier advanced into the trap. The first soldier's armour was finely cut, and an insignia of the Varden's symbol was etched clearly on his tunic. His helmet rested tightly on his head, his eyes darting to his surroundings. Dark patches of hair fell on his forehead and a cautious expression was engraved on his features. He was surprisingly young.

A staccato of heartbeats passed and Murtagh flicked his blade upwards, pouncing from his spot at the same time.

From the shadows he descended, brandishing his sword in an arc, bringing it down on the soldier's right shoulder. Murtagh saw the soldier's wide eyes, perceiving his immediate panic. Stunned by his unexpected presence, he had no chance to deflect Murtagh's inhumane blow.

A helpless cry tore from his lips and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his broken shoulder. Murtagh had landed on a crouch beside him, Za'roc's tip hovering dangerously close to the soldier's throat.

Shouts echoed in the woods and seconds later, four other soldiers appeared. Murtagh brought Za'roc closer to the man's neck as he glanced at the other soldiers infront of him. Lances and swords were pointed, an edge of panic creeping into their features.

"We were sent to escort you to the Varden," one of the soldiers spoke, his moustache bobbing up and down, "The Council has primarily concluded that it is acceptable for you to enter the camp."

In one swift movement, Murtagh stood up; gaining satisfaction from the soldiers' panicked movements. He hauled the soldier beside him with one arm, "Waise heil," He enchanted the spell which instantly healed his injury, "I apologize for my attack: instinct."

"Let's go," Murtagh said hoarsely, relaying the message to Thorn mentally.

The soldiers visibly relaxed, obviously expecting Murtagh to have fought all of them. Briefly, Murtagh felt a fleeting touch of magic jab at his consciousness and he recoiled, leaping back from his previous spot. They had a magician with them. And when he scanned the area again, he realized that there were at least five of them.

He hesitated, then he remembered that his sole mission was to ally himself with the Varden. He allowed a wry smile. He had been so accustomed to being an enemy, that he no longer knew what it felt like to be accepted.

Although reluctant to have five magicians- ones especially so powerful- surrounding him, he attempted to diminish his hostile behaviour, and put Za'roc back in its sheath. Two soldiers instantly stepped in front of him, while the other three placed themselves behind him, organizing a somewhat arrowhead formation.

He stood in the middle, feeling slightly trapped. But he knew he could overpower these soldiers anytime, it was just the five magicians around them. Breathing deeply, he began to walk, his footfalls crunching leaves and dead twigs under him.

**-x-**

The tension in the air was almost palpable. Murtagh entered the tent; every pair of eyes fixed at him. Some held curiosity. Some held hostility. Most held condemnation and burning hatred. For a moment, Eragon felt sincere sympathy for his half-brother. The tent was large, big enough to host a hundred bodies. But in that instant, when Murtagh arrived, the space seemed to reduce. Eragon shifted.

_Blodhgarm, he did not harm anyone? _Eragon asked the elven spellcaster.

The reply was not long in coming, _He attacked one of the soldiers; he claimed it was instinct. But the human is healed.  
_

Eragon heard the doubts in the elf's words. Nevertheless he replied, _Thank you Blodhgarm. _

A response of gratitude filled Eragon's mind. Concentrating back to the scene unfolding before him, Eragon shifted his attention.

Generals and soldiers alike, lined the tent's sides, and a gap emerged in the middle and towards the front was Nasuada, her posture rigid with authority. Eragon was a few bodies away from her, situated near the right hand-side of the line of officials. Arya stood with him, watching Murtagh with an impassive facade; but under the exterior, Eragon knew the antagonism that threatened to break through the surface.

Murtagh, after assessing his audience, began to walk, his footsteps the only audible sound in the tent.

Admiration pervaded Eragon as he watched his half-brother march with his head held high and his countenance fearless. This was a lone wolf out of his territory; but not once had Murtagh gave an indication of apprehension. He appeared calm and cool, as if walking into a room full of flames was nothing but a leisurely stroll. Living a life full of bitterness and hatred would turn any man into a hard, tough survivor.

Eragon glanced at Arya briefly, surprised to find her looking at him already. Eragon perceived it as an expression of embarrassment and Arya looked away. Before his notice could fully grasp it, Nasuada spoke softly, breaking through his concentration, "Murtagh... Morzansson."

Eragon, eyes fastened on his half-brother picked up on Murtagh's slight flinch at the mention of his father's name. He knew how he despised his heritage, how he loathed his father. Guilt gnawed at Eragon as he remembered the encounter he had with him a while ago; when he had recklessly remarked that he was becoming just like his father. It had been impulsive and rash, but at the time his rage had gotten the better of him.

"We have deemed it ... reasonable and only logical that you be accepted in the Varden," Nasuada announced, her hard eyes searching settling onto Murtagh's, "We have every right to oppose you, but before we _officially_ accept you as an ally, you must state your reasons for alliance."

Standing before the council and Nasuada, Murtagh rested his palm on the pommel of Za'roc, his posture firm with formality. A moment passed before Murtagh bowed, earning him a few grumbles of surprise and disbelief, "Lady Nasuada," He said, his tone civil, "I have indeed come to offer you my alliance and service as a Rider."

From the corner of his eye, Eragon saw Nasuada twitch at Murtagh's behaviour. "We are listening," She nodded, gesturing him to continue.

"I have escaped Galbatorix' control, but the freedom is only temporary. In this transitory moment of liberation, I hope to find a solution to permanently escape his command forever," Murtagh said, "Indeed I could have avoided both the Empire and Varden, but I realize that my alliance could be of use, and in return, I am granted an accordance with the Varden."

There was a beat of silence and the crowd erupted with a mixture of dissatisfaction, but some remained quiet, as if wanting to hear more, to hear reassurance that he would not bring destruction. Nasuada held a hand, signifying order. The crowd descended into silence.

Murtagh cleared his throat, "I can offer invaluable information and... one item beyond value; I have brought the last dragon egg."

Eragon shifted, sensing the alteration of mood in the room. A few generals exclaimed in surprise and astonishment. Nasuada spoke after a few seconds, "While we realise that another existing Rider may be of use; we can be hopeful and attempt to find a Rider for the dragon egg which you speak of... However, you have yet to gain our trust. Bringing a dragon egg does not accomplish that. I would be more reassured if you have Eragon examine your mind."

Murtagh tensed visibly, like a snake recoiling tightly, "I'm afraid that my consent to that request will never be granted."

Nasuada's voice hardened, "Then how can we know you are worthy of our trust? I myself, am willing to take you in...but not without trust. It is a folly to let you go, for you hold such high significance, but if we share our knowledge with you, then there is the fear that your alliance to us is not adamant and betrayal may occur."

Murtagh shook his head, "You do not have to share any knowledge if that is the Varden's desire; it is alliance I seek. If I have yet to gain your trust, then I must do through means other than consenting to someone assess my mind."

Nasuada eyed her subjects with authority, daring them to question her upcoming declaration, "Is this your only condition?"

Murtagh tilted his head, "That, and no harm shall come to me or Thorn, my dragon. We will come when it is required of us; we will fight for the Varden, as the result of our alliance."

The room was silent, and then every pair of eyes turned to Nasuada, awaiting her response. Eragon, too, looked at the Varden leader, the young woman whom a whole nation looked up to for leadership. Age did not matter when it came to Nasuada, for she held her ground like her father had: he was resolute and ruthless when it came to decisions, and so was she.

"From this day, Murtagh Morzansson," Nasuada said firmly, "You shall be acknowledged as one of the Varden's ally. We accept."

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief, pleased how the situation turned out. Before anyone could say anything else, King Orrin of Surda, stood up, his countenance holding slight resignation, "We had declined your alliance first because you did not seem trustworthy for the Varden. I still hold the same view, but I deem your justification for accordance to be... sufficient for the meantime. You are granted alliance," He said.

Other generals and numerous leaders of Kingdoms stood and voiced their agreement. Murtagh titled to express his gratitude at each one. When the last leader expressed accordance, King Orrin said, "You have the Varden's alliance, Red Rider. But if you come to betray our established pact and you should prove to be a man of false words and honour, the Varden will seek every opportunity to _eliminate _you."

Murtagh said confidently, "Then I will not _fail_."

Eragon, quietly observing Murtagh from afar, saw the gleam in his eyes; the look of fleeting deceit appearing in his features as he spoke those words. Eragon also wondered if he heard the ambiguity in them; if his response was for Orrin or for himself. But the reaction had been so transient that Eragon wondered if he saw it.

The whole tent seemed to ease with tension after Murtagh's declaration of alliance. Nasuada raised her hand for silence, "I expect every chief to follow this pact; no harm shall befall the Red Rider or his dragon. He will be acknowledged as an alliance and should be treated as so."

Every chief expressed their agreement and Eragon shifted in his stance, from having stood so rigidly for so long. Arya moved with him, unknowingly echoing his movements. Before the crowd could dismiss, Nasuada announced, "Murtagh, I trust that you have the dragon egg in your safety. I expect it to be in my tent by tomorrow. All of Varden's citizens and the joint tribes will attempt and see if they are worthy enough to be its Rider. "

Murtagh bowed and whispered softly, "And a Rider it _must_ and should get."

**

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_Okay, this chapter was half-filler-half-plot-related. I always have these long gaps bef_or_e I update which makes me want to insert fillers every now and then to get the story going again for me... but I hope you don't mind. _

_Thank you for your reviews last chapter. Here are the replies:_

Woody2792: Thanks for your review. Yes it's cruel that Murtagh's deceiving them, but I have plans for him... ^_^ His time with the Varden will be lengthy, and a lot can happen in that time.

bluewaffles621: Thank you. Yeah, I'm trying to be the best writer I can be, and I hope I'm not disappointing you with my chapters. I love putting ExA bits because I absolutely love writing about them. Hopefully there are more ExA parts coming up; I feel that the current plot situations are preventing me from inserting random ExA bits. But there is definitely a big chunk coming up (in 2-3 chapters' time.)

adrine R.277: Thank you for your review. I won't comment on your predictions (:, because they'll reveal too much about the upcoming chapters and ultimately, the way the plot is going. But all I can say is awesome prediction. ^_^

Aethers Chosen: Thanks. Yeah, but I remember from _Eragon _that when they fought, Murtagh and Eragon were equally-matched. Eragon did progress very well both in magic and sword, but in that time, Murtagh could have as well. After all, he's under Galbatorix' command. I'm sure he would have been trained as strenuously as Eragon, albeit perhaps more severely and cruelly. But yes, I do think Eragon is stronger; that's why I made him break Murtagh's shoulder in the end. Of course Eragon could have done more than break a bone... but I don't want Murtagh to be crushed. ^_^

tibby09296: Thank you. That's good; exactly what I was aiming for.

chainmail: Thank you. Well, I hope this chapter was alright. They were not all complete 'stooges' as you can see; the acceptance is very hesitant and reluctant. I hope I wrote that well enough. As for M&Galby's plan, there will be some setbacks and obstacles, but I won't say any more than that. ;)

RFreedom: Yes they will have an opportunity; this will be seen throughout the upcoming chapters. It's a matter of taking those opportunities or not that I will be writing about. (:  
I could do that, but I have other plans for them. And I need to read more about True Names and Galbatorix' dark magic; if it would even be possible for M&T to change through the simplest acts etc.

An Emerald Sunrise, XxWeixX, vangrace: Thank youuu for your review. (:

Rosebud1990: Will PM my reply; thank you for the review.

Thank you very much for the reviews, guys! Will try to update soon (but highly unlikely.)

_I am really sorry for the long delays, but hey, I'm still writing aren't I? ;)_

_CJ.x_**  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_*If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don't, they never were.*  
Kahlil Gibran_

Treat for ExA fans! This chapter is mostly filler, but I'm sure ExA fans won't mind. ;) I mean, they are one of the most significant features of my story. And the quote up ^ there is a reminder of the principal foundation of why I even wrote IILYG; Eragon and Arya pairing.

I won't be uploading for a while, so I hope you enjoy this chapter. It contains ExA, small section on Murtagh and a surprise character appearance in my story! Not really sure what to do with her yet, but I thought she'd be quite interesting to include. I want to know what you think, so please comment after reading!

This chapter stemmed from my day-dreaming and I just wanted to write it down and make it a filler chapter for my story.

_Advance note;_ the dreams/nightmares Eragon has is not a significant part of the plot. Just a nightmare.

_Enjoy!_

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Finally alone in his tent, Eragon slumped on his pallet, exhausted with the days' events. He had endured so much the past few weeks that it was almost implausible to acquire the time to ponder upon occurrences.

Removing his armour and tunic, he let the smooth blanket envelop his sore muscles. He sighed with contentment.

As fatigue overtook him, he closed his eyes. Blurred images swirled and incoherent thoughts swam in his mind, but he did not take notice of them; he only wanted to rid his weariness.

_Eragon... _Saphira said mentally, her voice sounding like a distant melody.

Eragon did not react; much less form a lucid thought to reply. Instead, he sent his sense of vague response. _Sleep little one... _Saphira's voice travelled to his mind, soothing him, finally sending him into his desired sleep.

...

...

...

_Shackles. He was bound to cold, grey shackles. It restricted him from any movement. His eyes, which were blurry from the inflicted bruises, struggled to discern the images forming infront of him. "Why, you're awake, Rider." A voice rasped. _

_Eragon grunted, moving his arm, but only managing to rattle the shackles slightly. He tried to speak but only croaked; his throat parched so dry that he could feel the rawness of it. A maniac cackling filled the cell, rebounding from the walls and resounding much louder in Eragon's ears. Slowly, he looked up, feeling as if a heavy weight was placed upon him. Eragon saw nothing but a dark outline, the face obscured by the darkest of shadows. _

_He tilted his head slightly, the movement causing his neck to spasm as if a lightning bolt shot through him. Eragon glanced down, finding his whole body marred with gaping and bleeding wounds. If it was gruesome to the eyes, then it held burning agony for the wearer. _

_Suddenly, his senses flooded him and he could feel every burn and sting of each cut, feeling the bitter air piercing them. He wanted to cry, shout until they ended his pain but when he opened his mouth, only a hoarse grunt came out. His dry throat had limited him from voicing out much more. He flinched as a cold blade pierced his skin, slicing through his flesh like soft bread. He refrained from moving; he knew it would hurt more... _

_..._

_An eternity could have passed, he would not have known. Eragon had succumbed to the sea of pain. He had decided to face the demons of his nightmare. Who would succeed in conquering; he believed that Fate itself did not know. _

_..._

A presence tried to fill Eragon's mind, but his psyche slammed the entry to his consciousness. Darkness continued to envelope him...

_Time moved slowly, and Eragon's vision became vague; only seeing dark looming shapes move in and out of his line of sight. He still felt the pain. It was a profound sense of anguish that relentlessly continued to shroud him. It was always there, like an omnipresent being, dragging him back to the dreaded memories... _

_...  
_

_Suddenly, he was walking, an image of a place blossomed in his mind. Terror gripped him. He knew this place; every pathway, every tree... and the unforgettable memories of his childhood that came with it. However, it was not the same. _

_Charred wood and heaps of rubble were scattered everywhere, painting a despondent scene. He continued to walk towards the wreck, only coming to a halt when his attention caught on something under a nearby pile of debris. Eragon's mind screamed, bellowed in agony as memories turbulently came flooding back. Unable to stop his body from moving towards the mound of wreckage, he could only watch in horror as he began to lift the debris off his Uncle's blistered corpse... _

"No!" _Eragon cried; an utter sound of pure anguish. The grief that exploded within him was so profound that Eragon pleaded for the memories to stop, "Please stop!"_

_He was shaking, shivering with the fear and agony of having to relive the scene again. _

"Eragon! Eragon!"

Eragon awakened, his whole body trembling. Sweat filmed his skin, and he could feel the dampness of his blanket. Somebody was shaking him, a distant voice breaking through his awareness. "Wake up, Eragon!" a voice cried, "Please wake up!"

Gradually his senses returned, but Eragon could not stop his trembling. His eyes snapped open, his hands infront of his chest, shaking uncontrollably. Eragon saw the ceiling of his tent and in his line of sight was a shape; a person.

Dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her beautiful, wide emerald eyes were fixed on his. The person registered into his mind instantly. _Arya._

Eragon's shivering lessened as relief rushed through him. Arya had positioned herself beside his pallet, and her arms, which were previously attempting to shake him awake, hastily encircled his body. Eragon's head leaned on her chest, his mind coming alive, trying to function properly. Arya held him tightly, her voice quivering, "Eragon, are you alright?"

Eragon tried to speak, but no words came out. She consoled him, her left arm enclosed around his back while the other had wound around his neck. His head lay between her shoulder and her chest. The action comforted Eragon to a profound level.

Breathing raggedly, he couldn't help but inhale her scent. It was intoxicating. It was calming.

Eragon knew that the scent would be forever branded into his mind. It would bring him peace, but it would also cause him heartache beyond any pain. Other than Saphira, Arya would be the only woman to anchor him to the present.

Eragon wanted nobody else but her. But he could not have her.

Arya murmured something in her own native tongue. Eragon did not understand, but the cadence to her words brought him serenity. His hands, which had stopped shaking, gripped Arya's body tightly. He had wound his arms around her waist and he held her so so firmly. He didn't want to let her go.

Seconds turned into minutes until Eragon's trembling body finally ceased. Arya held on to him, her hands rubbing his back gently, attempting to soothe him.

A few more minutes passed before she finally pulled away. "Eragon," she said, her voice filled with concern. She withdrew slightly, her hands coming to a rest on his shoulders, "Are you alright?" She repeated quietly.

Eragon nodded. He ran his hands through his damp hair, and Arya leaned back.

Eragon sat up properly, bringing his knees below his chin. "It was just a nightmare," he whispered softly, blinking back the tears. He refused to look at Arya, not wanting to appear weak before her. From the corner of his eyes, Eragon saw her move closer. Her smooth hand stroked his cheek, before moving it to lift his chin up. Her unwavering gaze drilled into his.

She didn't say anything for a while, only stared into the depths of his eyes. Eragon gazed back, his emotions running wild. An inexplicable connection forged between them, and Eragon felt it settle into his mind and heart like steel. If she was not secured in his heart, then she was now. Eragon buried her deep in his heart, in his core. She would never leave it, otherwise he'd have to wrench his own heart to rid of her.  
And Alageasia; the world would have to end until he had the strength to do that.

As their eyes continued to stare into each others, Eragon felt his distressing memories fade.

"Often, visions of the past come back to haunt us," Arya finally said, her voice so faint that even Eragon's Elven ears had difficulty hearing it; "It will take time." Her eyes hadn't strayed from his.

Unspoken words passed through between them. Eragon knew. _It will take time before he could face the memories and fully accept them. _The memories would always bring grief and anguish, but in time, he would have accepted it. It would no longer bring him to tears, but only a stab of reminiscent pain.

Arya's hand dropped from his shoulder, "Meditating would bring you some peace."

Eragon nodded, "Thank you." His sweat had dissipated, and despite his leggings, Eragon was suddenly aware of his bare body and Arya's closeness. She shifted, sensing it too. The air around them seemed to heat up, swathing them with pleasurable warmth.

Not wanting her to leave, Eragon asked gently, "How did you know I was having a nightmare?"

"Saphira told me," Arya replied, her voice and facade turning impassive.

Eragon remembered the consiousness that had attempted to enter his mind during his nightmare. He flinched; it had been Saphira's. But Arya's inexpressive demeanour demanded his attention.

Wanting to break her aloof exterior, Eragon said lightly, "It is becoming a habit of yours saving me." He smiled slightly.

Arya's lips twitched, her eyes gleaming, "It seems so." She stood. To Eragon's surprise, she held her hand to him. Slowly, Eragon's hand rose and grasped hers. He could not help but notice how his hand wrapped around hers; how they fit so perfectly around each other.

Overestimating her strength, Arya pulled Eragon too hard and he was thrust forward. Their bodies immediately touched; Arya's hand's still encased around his. She let out a startled gasp and Eragon took a sharp intake of breath.

Out of his control, nor power, Eragon felt a fierce sizzle of desire course through his body, his senses thrumming alive. Their eyes were nearly levelled, though Eragon's height caused Arya to look up slightly. His breathing had become perceptibly ragged and if Eragon was not mistaken, so had hers. Her breath, which came in soft tantalizing staccatos, drove Eragon into chaos of sensations.

Their intimacy was so intense that Eragon felt her body moving, breathing in time with his. His mind incoherent, impulse nearly drove him to react recklessly...

But the memory of her rejection halted him. Nevertheless, he stared deep into her eyes, not knowing nor caring what his eyes gave away. Desire was what he held, and if she should see that, then he would allow her.

Then at last... it took every ounce of strength for Eragon to pull away. He let her hand slip from hers and Arya's countenance transiently altered to one of pain. If it was from his doing or her self-conflict, he did not know.

"Thank you," Eragon said, his voice merely a whisper.

Arya turned away and in the same volume Eragon had spoken with, she said, "You're welcome."

With that, she was gone.

**-x-**

Near the outskirts of the Varden, Murtagh sat inside his sparsely furnished tent, while Thorn remained outside. They had required to be isolated from the bulk of the Varden.

This way, Murtagh would find it easier to contact Galbatorix without anyone eavesdropping. However, he knew that the Varden had strong spellcasters, perhaps, as formidable as the Empire's most elite spellcasters. Their mission would be put into peril if one should get past his wards and overhear his discussions with the Dark King.

Murtagh glanced at the hue of the tent walls, recognizing that it was the middle of a mild afternoon. Faint sunlight coloured the tent walls a light orange-yellow. Galbatorix would be pleased with them for completing the first phase of their task in such a short time.

_Thorn, I am to begin, _Murtagh said mentally.

Thorn sent his acknowledgment and replied, _I will stay on guard._

Murtagh inhaled deeply, composing an impassive countenance. A basin filled with water rippled under Murtagh's monotonous chanting. No more than a minute had passed before the surface of the water materialized into an image of Galbatorix. Despite not being in the same room as him, Murtagh felt the air fill with bitter coldness.

Galbatorix' sinister presence was dominating, and Murtagh's flesh crawled as he came to gaze upon the dark king himself. His black hair shone silkily in the light of his chamber, and his sharply defined features twisted into a satisfied smirk.

"I have completed the first task of our mission, my King," Murtagh said, tilting his head.

A beatific smile graced Galbatorix' lips, "Very good, Murtagh. I had expected you and Thorn to take longer."

"Fortune has smiled upon us," Murtagh replied, inwardly amused at the irony of his sentence.

"Indeed," Galbatorix said, his voice sonorous. "I suggest you promptly begin the second task. We cannot waste too much time. The sooner it hatches, the sooner my plan can commence."

Murtagh nodded once, "I will not fail. By the end of tomorrow, it shall be with its Rider. The plan is progressing smoothly. We expect no setbacks. However, the Varden has a fearsome and remarkable unit of spellcasters."

Galbatorix' brow arched, "Is that so? Well I am not too surprised. They cannot be human to be considered so formidable. They are most likely dispatched by Islanzadi."

Murtagh concealed his slight astonishment.

"Well, they are not yet a nuisance. In all likelihood, they are protecting the Varden's only Rider," Galbatorix mused. He smiled, a cruel gleam in his eyes, "Near the end of your mission, it will be prove to be a vast benefit if you are successful in eradicating at least half of them by the time the Varden reaches the heart of the Empire. From past experiences, I know elven spellcasters can demonstrate an impressive show of power during battle."

Murtagh was somewhat daunted by the task, but he complied, "Of course, your Majesty."

"You are doing well, Murtagh," Galbatorix said approvingly, "I trust you will contact me again after completing your second task."

"I will," Murtagh said, just as Galbatorix disappeared from the surface of the water.

**-x-**

Eragon wandered away from the cluster of Varden tents, hoping to seek solace in a quite expanse. To his far right, there was a space covered in woodland and foliage. To his left was the mass collection of Varden tents.

In the stretch between these two locations, he sought comfort and peace. His mind was still in turmoil. His earlier encounter with Arya had caused his emotions to spring free, flooding him with his profound ardour for her. However, the reminder of her rejection had halted him in committing an impulsive action:

He had almost kissed her. And in doing so would have inevitably put their friendship in a risk. Or bring its ultimate end.

Arya had already warned him to rid of his affections for her; otherwise their friendship would cease to continue. Eragon certainly did not want that to happen. He valued her more than anything or anyone else. But the hurt, the anguish of the deliberation of never having her as more than a friend, sent Eragon to an unfathomable chasm of heartache. Loneliness pervaded his senses and he felt his chest constrict with the unruly thoughts and his emotions for Arya. Would he never have her?

_Little one... _Saphira murmured through their link, voicing her concern. She had gleaned his encounter with Arya from his memories, and now she sensed his intense distress.

Eragon crossed his legs quietly, barely making a sound. He let Saphira flick through his memories like a book. He shifted, the grass nestling his weight and he simply laid his palms on either side of his knees.

_I ask you to leave me be for a moment, Saphira, _Eragon asked softly, _Please. _

Reluctance emanated from their link. Her voice hinting slight anger, Saphira said, _It does no good to ponder on such miserable topics, Eragon. _

_More than it is to let them go unthought-of, _Eragon countered calmly, _Anyway, I have not had the time to meditate for a long while._

A minute passed before Saphira hesitantly complied to Eragon's unspoken request. She faded from their link.

Closing his eyes, Eragon then sought to shut and lock away errant thoughts which scattered throughout his mind like leaves floating on a rippled pond. The stillness of his surroundings calmed his heartbeat and his mind finally relaxed.

As he extended his mind around him, he felt every entity he brushed against, be it an ant wandering from its line or a lone rabbit searching for its mother. Their thoughts were incoherent, but he knew if he so wished, he could read their minds. As the thrumming of life force increased in magnitude, he felt the creatures cower away from his presence.

Focusing only on his surroundings, Eragon inhaled and exhaled deeply, sublime serenity filling him. He gathered any remaining wandering thoughts and pushed them away gently in his mind. As he fell to serenity, his interest drew to a mind of a fox. A predator.

It was on a hunt. The fox had briefly cowered from his presence before it resumed on carrying out its task. Eragon gleaned its location instantly; southwest of the woods.

Curious, he stayed on the fox's presence, following its progress. The predator crept along thick brushes and gingerly leapt over fallen logs. It was crouched, moving silently amongst the forest like a phantom. Eragon sensed the fox's sole purpose; to catch its prey. The fox paused in its tracks, surveying its surroundings with cunning eyes. It caught a flash of movement on its far right and its head snapped at the rustling sound. Its ears perked up, listening intently. Eragon was absorbed in its mind, its sense of power.

This fox may be little and insignificant in a man's eyes, but in the eyes of its prey, it was the living terror. The predator.

The fox moved, its lean body tense and coiled, waiting to strike. As the rustling of leaves escalated, the fox sniffed and stealthily padded behind a brush. There it stayed, patiently waiting. Eragon, entranced by the whole process, had obliterated everything from his mind and focus, but for the fox. So he wasn't prepared when a hand touched his shoulder.

Giving a yelp of surprise, his eyes snapped open. Violet orbs stared back at him, power and intelligence swimming in its depths. Unfathomable as they were, a haunting gleam appeared at the surface, betraying the child-like innocence etched on the girl's features.

"Elva." Eragon said, his voice managing to sound calm. His mind, however, broke free of the serenity he was previously in and thoughts scattered throughout his mind like a dam rupturing. Amongst the torrent of thoughts, panic and alarm surfaced at the sight and proximity of the little, yet dangerous girl infront of him.

"Shadeslayer," Elva spoke, her voice unnaturally deep. Despite the hardships Eragon knew she had endured, the voice of a female adult in the body of a child made his blood run cold. Ageless was her face, apart from her deep, sly eyes and haunting voice.

"What brings you here?" Eragon asked, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings. They had been closed for such a considerable amount of time that he saw patches of white whenever he blinked.

He took in Elva's simple, dark blue dress and knowing expression. She stood opposite him, after taking her hand off his shoulder. He had to tilt his head slightly to look at her. The silvery, meticulous thin lining of the Gedwey Ignasia dominated her forehead, forever branding her different. Special. Unique.

"You know what brings me to people," Elva said, her expression grim.

Eragon winced. He knew; for he was the one who cursed her into the Fate. Though she had forgiven him, he still felt very guilty for burdening her with an ill-fate. She should have had a happy childhood, a normal life, not a lifetime of anguish and sorrow. Despite her newfound capability to ignore those in pain, it still meant that she felt them. And in this world, pain seemed to be the only omnipresent sentiment. He knew that from past experience.

When Eragon did not say his answer, Elva said it for him, "Pain."

Suddenly ashamed to look into those miserable violet eyes, he looked away, but whispered, "I'm sorry for my mistake."

There was a small silence.

When Elva spoke, her voice sounded softer from her usual steel tone, "I have forgiven you for that, Rider."

Eragon looked at her, "However, it does not diminish the fact of what I've done," He tilted his head slightly, "But I'm glad that you have forgiven me."

Elva made no reply, or any indication to. She simply stared at him with a hardened expression. Her violet eyes seemed penetrating when she asked, "What ails you, Rider?"

Eragon looked at her, attempting to hide his confusion. He had only been sitting here, listening to the nature-

Oh.

She meant his previous condition: when his mental state was in a tumult of thoughts:

When his emotions were a shroud of pain. When he had been thinking about Arya. Her rejections. He knew events of late had no room to ponder on such things like heartache, but he could not help it. He longed for her.

But she did not want him.

"There it is again," Elva said, agitation seeping into her features.

Eragon looked away from her, casting his eyes on the grass, "You would not understand, Elva."

At this the little girl gave a haughty laugh.

"I know different kinds of pain, since I have endured them as if I was the person myself. I know the difference from the pain of feeling a wound, losing a loved one," She paused until Eragon finally glanced at her, "and...even the pain of a heartache."

She smiled innocently at him, but her eyes indicated anything but. They contained intelligence and an understanding beyond her age, "I understand very well what your pain is."

Eragon couldn't look at her. He wouldn't.

"Let me tell you something, Rider," Elva said, sitting down opposite him. Her dress went over her knees and her hair ruffled at the slight breeze. Her violet eyes were fixed on him, "I have felt heartaches. It is not pleasant. While a wound may be painful and uncomfortable, it will heal. While losing a loved one can cause grief, one would soon realize that after all the tears, the pain would subside," She paused, her eyes gleamed, "However, a genuine heartache strikes the very core of a person: their heart. Wounds may be inflicted, but they would soon heal. Grief is as potent as any physical pain, and will come and go. But none of those emotions can compare to the pain of the heart. Heartache feels as if your very heart was ripped from your chest."

She paused again, her eyes distant at recalling the sentiment, "It constricts one's breathing, making her or him feel as though everything in their body is broken." Eragon noted that Elva's description was unerringly accurate. But there was something lacking in her voice; something which told Eragon that Elva did not know its true meaning; its true pain.

"Many men and women experience this emotion, this heartache. But none," She eyed him closely, "None can compare to yours."

Eragon remained impassive, attempting to let his eyes appear indifferent to her words.

"Your pain is much worse," Elva said softly, appearing to feel sincere concern for him, "While my normal description of heartache still stands; when compared to yours, it is not as if your heart was ripped, but also pierced with a burning sword. It is not as if it was only trampled upon, but also barbed with wire and thrown into flames," Her eyes misted with pain as she recalled the sensation, "And you, while your heart burns, you stand and watch, unable to alleviate the pain, unable to find your happiness. It is the most torturous sensation yet."

During her speech, Eragon had looked away, his eyes staring intently at the ground, refusing to let Elva's words slice into his heart. He knew what she spoke of was true. If he tried to deny it, he feared that his voice would betray him. The emotion he so guardedly hidden and constricted now broke free, bringing with it, undulating raw pain.

It was as if an old flame was dying into embers and before the fire could go out, a roaring inferno replaced it. Wanting the pain to sweep into every corners of his being, he didn't stop the torrent. Instead of running for cover from the rain, he revelled the storm; remaining in the centre of the explosion.

Fragments of his defence ruptured, the raw and painful emotion surging forward; it constricted his breathing. His heart hammered helplessly, rendering him powerless to seal the breach. For a minute, he sat there, his eyes shut tight. Eragon knew he was appearing vulnerable, but at that moment, he did not care.

His body had gone so still. His breathing paused as he tried to recuperate himself. Swift to compose his mind, he brought his emotions back, drawing everything in. The moment was intense and once Eragon collected himself, his body uncoiled the tension. He constructed formidable steel walls to safeguard his thoughts. He calmed himself until there was naught but a few wandering thoughts floating in his mind. Only then, did he open his eyes.

Elva had been staring attentively at him, her expression mixed with curiosity and pain. Eragon's anger flared towards the little girl, of how her words affected him, how she had managed to invoke such a potent emotion.

"Exactly that emotion," Elva spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. Eragon heard them and his posture became rigid.

The little girl's expression smoothly changed to one of furtiveness, "I have described the sensation almost perfectly," She murmured, seemingly pleased with herself.

Eragon decided that his voice would still come out hoarsely so he remained silent, hoping the little girl would leave the subject. Under his composed exterior, fume and confusion mingled; his perspective of the situation still unclear. Elva only seemed to like conversing with him because she knew she made him uneasy.

"Men and women alike have sought to ease the pain of heartache," Elva spoke, "Some were lucky to have relieved their pain. Some weren't. Some simply chose to forget it..." She paused, her deep voice temporarily acquiring a tone of disgust, "They engaged themselves in lustful and impious adventures."

At this, Eragon momentarily forgot about his anger and flinched at her description. She was naught but a child. No child should know about what men and women did for lust; but then again, she was not like other children. Her Gedwey Ignasia testified to that.

Elva straightened and eyed him haughtily; her chin lifted slightly, "So don't presume I do not know such things; especially about suffering. Why, sometimes I think people secretly like to feel pain to remind themselves that they are alive. It's an omniscient and omnipotent sentiment."

Eragon agreed, but he did not voice it. He simply looked at her.

Elva leaned towards him slightly, her expression regaining that false child-like innocence, "Anyway, my inquisitiveness persists; I am curious as to who captured your heart," She smirked, a hint of unkindness surfacing to her features, "And who tore it apart."

Eragon visibly tensed, his expression hard, "This matter will not continue to be discussed, Elva."

The little girl smiled all the more at his now, discernible ire. "It is not my fault, Rider. Us human beings are a curious lot."

Eragon made a move to leave, not wanting to converse with the little girl any longer. Elva looked at him, "Although there are bigger problems to worry about, I'm surprised this certain problem ails you more than all of them combined."

Eragon glared at her as he stood up. In the future, he thought it would be best if he avoided her.

"Why," the little girl sighed dramatically, "This woman must be so special."

"Elva..." Eragon half turned, giving her a fixed stare. The little girl discarded his warning.

Her expression suddenly altered to one of delicateness, but her haunting eyes betrayed that delicacy, "You should know better, Rider," Her voice descended into a soft whisper, "*If you love someone, you let them go. If they come to you, they are yours forever. If they do not, then it is never meant to be. It is Fate."

Eragon turned away, not wanting to let her have the satisfaction to see him flinch again. Briefly, he turned back, his expression inscrutable. His eyes met hers and he swore he felt a silent understanding exchange between them.

"Thank you for your advice, Elva." Eragon said, his voice emotionless. He turned away and started walking back towards the Varden.

This time she did not stop him, but Eragon thought he heard her say, "It was a pleasure talking with you, Shadeslayer." Though her words were such, her tone was cynical.

Eragon did not look back, did not falter in his steps. Elva's words rang in his mind, and he doubted that he could forget them.

**-x-**

**

* * *

**_**A/N:**_

_Hope you enjoyed it!_

_Reply to Chapter 14 Reviews:_

Aliben: Thank you! Yes, that's the way I intend it to go. I love writing their parts. I think I like it better building up their relationship rather than writing it when it's already happened, if you know what I mean. So yeah, thanks for your review.

Dr. Atom bomb: Haha, thank you very much. Oh, you'll be seeing more of Murtagh in the next few chapters.

Adrine R.227: Yeah, I gave too much away from that comment xD Silly of me. Sorry for the late update, as always, but then, I update nevertheless, so hope it's okay. Yes, if I'm ever in need of ideas, I'll be sure to pm you. Thanks for the offer J And thank you for the review!

: The Dwarves will come... I'm currently deciding in how to bring them in the current situation of the story. But it's easy to fit them in, so it'll be no problem. If you remember in Brisingr, most, if not all of them, were still in Farthen Dur because of the new king coronation. But they'll be in my story soon. Thanks for the review!

XxWeixX: Thank you for your review! J

Woody2792: Oh, believe me, this will turn around. ;) Yeah, I want Eragon to not trust Murtagh, but perhaps things will change... ;) Thanks for the review!

_I appreciate the support and reviews, guys! Thank you!_

_CJ.x_


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16.  
**

_Sorry for the delay. I've been so stressed for the past few weeks because of schoolwork, so hope you forgive me for the long delay. And I apologize for the EXTREMELY late replies to your reviews for Chapter 14 (see previous chapter for replies, bottom of the page.)_

_(Chapter 15) REPLIES:_

Roxci: I'm very much an ExA fan too, and I hope to include little ExA scenes every now and then, cos the story will be awesome like that. Hehe Thank you, I try to take in readers' comments and see what I can do better next time, so thanks for the awesome review.

Mockingbirds: Thank you and yes, I think this story-as far as everything is going-will be continuing. But I'm afraid readers will just have to deal with the time I take to update xD But yeah, I do try to update as soon as I can, but I'm still in school- my last year ;) And everything is sooooo incredibly busy, but I do have a spare time every now and then.

Nesquick11: Nah, not on hiatus and this story is NOT discontinued. I just take so long to update xD, so sorry about that. Thanks for the review!

Obliterator1519: Thank you!

EZS: I have plans for Arya, and for Murtagh and Thorn, so don't you worry ;) Everything will unfold in their due course. Yes, AxE every now and then, and hopefully another one soon; if it fits the current chapter plot. But I'll see. Thanks for the review!

Jits: Thank you for the review!

Rosebud1990: Never got the PM, bud... :P But yeah, thanks for the review anyway though!

Adrine R.227: Yeah, I thought so too ^_^ I like their moments, especially as I get to write them! Haha I think I tend to get a bit too angsty at times, but oh well. That's the way I like it to be, I guess. And glad you like it nevertheless. Thank you for the review!

Restrained Freedom: Murtagh and Thorn... well, just keep reading! I already have sort of made definite plans for them. Might change it, but at the moment, that's the way it's gonna be. I actually liked writing the Eragon and Elva scene. I enjoyed writing Elva's parts; a bit of cruelness and some misery will do some good for Eragon and the story, xD

XxWeixX: Thank you! Haha, nah, don't think it's a word, but I know what you mean. Thanks

FlexManSteel: Thank you. I agree; romance is what makes the real story! And what would I do without it? Hehe...

* * *

_So there you go. Sorry the replies section was a tad long, but I wanted to reply to each one (: _

_And like the previous chapter, there will be a surprise character!  
_

_Merry Christmas to all! And guess what? Here's your Christmas present from me! xD_

_

* * *

_*******_  
_

Looking out into the sea of Varden soldiers, Murtagh surveyed the new day before him. The sun was just over the horizon, swathing the land with a golden glow. Numerous clouds dotted the skies and the air was cool and crisp. The Varden was to seize Belatona today. Already, soldiers scurried to their destinations, and Murtagh could hear the clanking of armours and swords, and the boisterous commands from generals and captains.

Isolated from the main bulk of the Varden, Murtagh felt a stab of loneliness. He had never belonged anywhere. Never truly felt wanted or liked. His former swords master, Tornac and Eragon were the only people he had felt absolutely close to- people he could have actually called _friends_. Now, Tornac was dead and Eragon despised him.

Thorn was the only being whom he could count on. Although the thought of having his dragon with him, Murtagh still felt lonely that he had no human companions- friends. He longed for that. Having friends would perhaps make life seem more bearable. To lead a bitter and hard life like his without company was simply miserable.

A female's companionship might thrill and please him, but what woman would ever look at him, look at his eyes- a killer's eyes and love him? He desired a woman who can see for who he truly is, and accept all of the things he had and has done in his life, be it moral or immoral. He wanted a woman who not only lusted for him, but also loved him.

Back at Uru'baen, he had women throw themselves at him; women wanting to impress and please him. As a man, he was more than delighted at the showered attention, praising each woman's beauty as they flung themselves at him. Galbatorix had allowed him only that small opportunity to do as he wished with those women, but not once had Murtagh taken them. He exchanged sweet kisses, of course; he could not deny the temptation. But ultimately what he felt for those women were lust. And they, in return. Murtagh had never felt more than that for any of them.

He sighed. Such a lonely and bleak life he led. Despite everything, he was at least grateful that his heart and mind had hardened to such difficulties tolerating life. He would not be alive right now if he was not. Harsh and cruel this world was, and he intended to show the same courtesy as it had showed him.

The egg pouch safely nestled in Thorn's saddle, Murtagh and his dragon headed for the Varden. Battle would commence soon.

**-x-**

Arya paced around her tent, her mind and heart completely and utterly in chaos. Her sleep had been dreamless and restless. Yesterday's past events still lingered in her memories and it replayed again and again, unable to forget it. Although even if she had the choice, she knew she would not choose to forget it. The moment had been special... yet short-lived.

The experience had made her realize something. Something she had always tried to prevent herself from truly seeing. Something she always tried to evade. Something she was not familiar with, yet yearning to try.

Something worth dying for, yet it was also something worth living for.

The special moment with him had taken her breath away, rendered her senses completely blank and filling her with only profound emotions. She wanted those kinds of moments with him. Those moments that could make her forget about the world and everything around them. Those moments that could make her heart hammer. Those moments that she would always love.

Torn between her duties and her desires, Arya covered her face with her hand. Tears had fallen down her cheeks and she wiped them away with a single wipe. She knew she was on the verge of yet another break-down. But she had promised herself; she was suppose to control it, stop herself from falling into her vulnerability. She had promised herself. With difficulty, Arya endeavoured to hold herself together. She is a warrior, she had no time to act like such a human woman. She needed to stay calm.

But her unruly thoughts did not allow her to calm, nor concentrate. Surely, she can follow her heart? Follow her mind and heart's desires? Would Fate not allow her that?

Waves of anguish and guilt swept through her. A long time ago, she had done just that; follow her heart to be with Faolin. But what had happened to him? A pairing that had barely begun shortly came to an end. Faolin's death had caused her so much grief, so much hurt. The experience had made her tough, made her never want to relieve a similar experience again. It would be too much. If it happened to her again, It. Would. _Break_. Her.

A few more tears escaped her. Sighing deeply, Arya closed her eyes. She had cried so many times that if her tears were collected, they would create a river. So preoccupied on her thoughts and her emotions, Arya's elven ears did not pick up the sounds of footsteps.

The sound of ripping fabric filled the tent and a series of reactions appeared on Arya's face. Alarmed at the sudden appearance of a visitor. Fear and panic at her current state. And lastly, annoyance and fury at herself; she should have been prepared.

Arya looked up and she was more than surprised to see who her visitor was.

**-x-**

Walking towards the Varden's main tent, Murtagh felt like a scrutinized ant. Soldiers and guards patrolled the areas very warily and upon seeing him, they had completely transformed from relatively vigilant to extremely suspicious. Their eyes, filled with fear yet also condemnation, followed his every move. _Just a call, and I'll be there to rip them all. _Thorn said through their link.

Grinning wryly at himself, Murtagh replied, _As much as I know you might like to do just that, Thorn, I'm sure I am perfectly capable of handling them myself. _

_Humph, _Thorn snorted, but Murtagh felt his light mood surfacing through their link.

Guards situated at either side of the tent entrance wore grim expressions as he came towards them. He nodded tersely at them and they hesitantly nodded back.

Entering the tent with perfect ease and predatory grace, Murtagh was welcomed with yet more guards. A dozen of them lined the tent walls with rigid postures, and their spears were pointed upwards, their stillness quite unnerving. At the front of the tent, Murtagh was surprised to see only Nasuada sat there. The other seats next to her were empty and bare, and she regarded him with a cool, formal expression.

Murtagh noted that more guards were situated behind her, albeit a little distance away. However, he was slightly surprised at the guards' different colour of uniform; black.

With calm strides, Murtagh walked towards the front of the tent where Nasuada sat, patiently waiting. He tilted his head subtlety, the hintest of gestures, but one that caught her attention. She nodded back in return.

The tent was so quiet; the guards made no sound at all, as if they were not there. They simply blended with the stillness. Murtagh would have been comfortable, but his wariness made him alert to everything around him. He reckoned if he tried hard enough, he would hear their breathing.

But he was not here to do that.

He was here because he was summoned. Murtagh felt a slight bitterness at the thought. Always summoned...like a slave. Was that what he will ever be in this damned life? A slave, following his master's biddings? But Murtagh's bitterness lessened as he looked at Nasuada. She was situated above a dais, the position causing her to look down at him, and he to look up at her. Murtagh disliked the inferiority, but he had no choice.

"Murtagh," Nasuada addressed him, her voice filling the tent, "As you know, the Varden are to attack Belatona today."

Murtagh nodded at her question.

"Now as an ally, you will be a part of the attack." Nasuada said, observing him with her dark eyes, "You and Eragon shall batter Belatona's defences, and once weakened, the Varden will sweep through their ranks."

"It will be no problem," Murtagh said. He knew just what he and Eragon were capable of. Together, they could be unbeatable.

Nasuada nodded, satisfied with his answer, "We attack just after midday. Make sure you and your dragon are prepared for battle then."

"We're always ready," Murtagh said, his tone impassive.

There was a heartbeat of silence.

"Though the Varden will be busy for preparations for the attack, we also cannot waste time in finding the rightful rider for the dragon." Nasuada's countenance was one of authority.

Murtagh complied, "Of course."

"Guards will escort you in an hour to lead you to the pavilion where the rider-seeking shall take place."

Once again, Murtagh nodded in answer.

Then, Nasuada tilted her head slightly, searching Murtagh's expression. "So, how have you been, Murtagh?"

The question was so unexpected, so simple. But Murtagh's mind jerked with surprise. Unbelievable. _She _wanted to know how _he _is? The question suddenly seemed absurd to him. He felt like a gaping fish. For a few seconds, his countenance was blank. Then he blinked, realizing how stupid he must look. He looked away from her.

His mind came up with a few sarcastic and indifferent replies to her comment, but he restrained his tongue. Instead, he blurted the most common lie; "Fine."

As he was looking away, Murtagh didn't see Nasuada's reaction. He just stayed silent. He was a warrior. He shouldn't care that _she _cared. He was tough. Strong. Unbreakable. And it should, and would stay like that.

Murtagh glanced back at her, and he was surprised to see _sympathy _etched on her features. But as quickly as his mind registered it, her face blanked. She nodded, "Then that'll be all. In an hour's time, then."

Not trusting himself to speak, Murtagh nodded his goodbye and Nasuada merely inclined her head in return.

**-x-**

"Angela," Arya said abruptly, her eyes wide with surprise.

Realizing her current state of condition, Arya briefly turned away. She cleared her throat and straightened her back, dousing her chaotic emotions and unruly thoughts. In less than a second, she had gone from her fragile demeanour to her warrior's countenance. Her slanted eyes gained their hard, steely glint and her mouth was set in a tight, straight line. She turned back to Angela, whose cheerful demeanour was left unaffected by Arya's impassive one.

"Arya," the witch-woman acknowledged, her curls bobbing up and down as she walked towards her. Bangles of bracelets and what seemed to be like bones around her neck jingled as she moved again. Her bright clothes, which Arya thought were slightly odd, were a mixture of cloths and pieces, albeit sewn craftily and elegantly together. Her whole outfit was slightly eccentric, but then again, so was the woman who wore it.

"Angela, what brings you here?" Arya asked her tone polite. She had not conversed with Angela a lot, much less considered her to even visit. Her disturbance, and unexpected entrance caused Arya slight annoyance, but she regarded Angela with respect. After all, she had healed her and Eragon after the battle at Farthen Dur.

"The question, my dear, is: have you seen a red-eyed, yellow rabbit running around anywhere?" Angela asked, a wide smile plastered on her face. With the question, behaviour and appearance, Arya truly deemed the woman slightly insane.

"I'm afraid not," Arya replied truthfully. She looked around, grabbing her dagger and her bow, preparing to leave. She had spent too much time pondering on useless matter. Somewhere, a laugh and a familiar voice rang in her mind, _Useless matter? It is your feelings, Arya. They matter more than you know. _Arya shook her head, attempting to get rid of the voice that sounded so similarly like her, but yet it wasn't like her.

Angela began to walk around the tent, her expression one of curiosity. "Are you sure you haven't seen a red-eyed, yellow rabbit around? A potion gone wrong; that rabbit can be exceedingly dangerous, I tell you."

The witch's eccentrics made Arya smile slightly. She shook her head, "No, I'm sorry. I admit; I have not even seen such a oddly-coloured rabbit. Yellow and red-eyed, did you say?"

Angela beamed, "Yes; yellow and red-eyed."

"I'm sure it will not be hard to find," Arya said, "Such a brightly coloured animal running around; it's bound to have soldiers and children running after it now. They would think it a precious and valuable animal."

"That's what I am worried about, you see. It's yellow colour will attract people. It might get killed. It might get sold at an auction. Who knows? But what they don't know is that that rabbit can give nasty bites. One that scars and injects poison to the body." Angela shook her head disapprovingly, "I don't know how it got away from me. They can be quick."

Talking with the witch strangely made Arya feel better, as if Angela's oddity made her forget her previous situation. Temporarily, of course. Arya slung her bow on her back.

"May I ask, how did the rabbit turn yellow?" Arya asked, genuinely curious.

Angela's countenance became animated, seemingly excited with explaining it, "You see, I was testing a potion on it. Have you heard of mad rabbits, dear?"

Arya's knowledge of mad rabbits were scarce, but she had heard of them. Tales scattered all over Alageasia about mad rabbits were mystifying. Arya, herself has not even seen such a thing. But if Angela was telling the truth and there was indeed a mad rabbit running around, then it could very well be dangerous. Mad rabbits were known to kill reckless magicians with just one bite.

"Yes, I have. But such tales sound absurd," Arya said, voicing her opinion, "Surely they don't exist?"

Angela smiled, her intelligent eyes interested. "Well, of course they exist dear! Why would I be searching for it if they weren't?"

A series of replies came to Arya's mind, but she deemed it may be insulting to the witch. Instead, she gave a clever response, "One can search for many things, but sometimes they do not find it. Does that make what they are searching for unreal?"

_Like love, _Arya thought silently to herself. But she knew what she felt for _him _was more than real. She didn't search for it, didn't even intend for it to happen. But it did, and she couldn't keep ignoring it. Couldn't keep denying what her heart yearned.

Deep dimples appeared on Angela's cheeks as she beamed, "Very clever, _Drottningu._"

Arya's smile faltered a little. She addressed her by her elven title. Only a handful of people in the Varden knew of her royal status, but none of them was Angela. Of course she never really cared if people knew or not, but how Angela came to know without her discretion was a little mystifying.

"I see the question in your eyes," Angela said, her smile still there, "I know many things, Arya. For ones who have walked the land for many decades pick up many things every now and then."

That still didn't satisfy Arya's curiosity though. She asked, "So how did you come to know? Many people in the Varden only know me as the Elves' Ambassador."

"The answer is very simple," Angela grinned, "Only one needs to realize it."

Arya tried to guess, surely such an information was heard from another- oh. Oh. Looking at the witch woman, Arya smiled.

"You know the Ancient Language." Arya stated. The answer was indeed simple.

"Every spellcaster should know a bit, don't you think?" Angela smiled, "Goodness, I thank you are faster at realizing than Eragon. He can be a bit slow sometimes."

The mention of his name abruptly brought everything to a halt in Arya's mind, and heart. Even her breathing seemed to have paused. Angela eyed her interestedly. After the perceptible falter, Arya tried to cover it by forcing a smile. If she failed or succeeded, she didn't know.

"Interesting person, Eragon is." Angela said, keeping her gaze fixed on Arya, "Very interesting indeed."

Arya remained silent, not knowing what to say.

"I remember when he curiously bumbled into my shop in Teirm. So curious that boy is; asks too many questions," Angela smiled.

Arya knew she spoke true. Eragon was always curious, always asking questions.

"Of course, he improved a bit better know; answering the questions himself," Angela's eyes never left Arya's. The eccentric herbalist continued, "You give him an answer, then he thinks of another bunch of questions to ask."

"Well, man can never really fault the human's curiosity of life," Arya said, "Beings always have questions."

"Precisely, my dear," Angela agreed, "I just think he voices it too much, don't you think?"

Arya hesitated a little in her response, but she said, "I have to say I cannot blame his curiosity. Having walked his life half-blind- not knowing of the outside world, not knowing of magic or other races-, then one cannot fault him for wanting to know more. Curiosity sometimes gives way to knowledge. And knowledge is important and valuable."

Angela smiled, "I must say, I do enjoy conversing with you."

Smiling a little, Arya inclined her head.

Suddenly, Angela asked, "I have time on my side-" Arya briefly wondered about her red-eyed, yellow, mad rabbit, but she didn't voice it, "Would you like your fortune told?"

Arya stiffened visibly, "One's fate is unknown, and it should remain that way."

"But you know it can be found out: through means of Dragon knuckle bones." Angela said, her eyes acquiring an interested gleam.

"Living life knowing your fate would be slightly miserable. What surprises would there be?" Arya countered, though she believed herself that knowing one's fortune would be valuable. She could prevent many unfortunate things to occur, and in her life, many unfortunate things have occurred and she had been powerless to stop it.

An immediate thought struck her. Arya believed herself to be an attraction of trouble and misery. What if another death, someone close to her, will occur again? She could know, and she would prevent it to happen. What if the death was Eragon's? At this thought, Arya's heart gave a strong squeeze. A profound and anguished sensation rushed through her, sweeping past her tightly guarded defences. Her heart strongly protested at the thought of Eragon's death. Tears burned. Her mind screamed, already imaging the agony and grief it would bring. She would _not_ let that happen.

_But_ she knew knowing one's fate was extremely dangerous. It was unnatural. Nature should run its course, undisturbed. But hers had not long been at peace. Where was her peace? Where was the serenity? Having been unable to find it, Arya had locked herself away. Shielded her inner self away from the world; away from the cruelty, bitterness and anguish. Even though she had done so, she was already damaged. She believed she would never be repaired. Never have the strength to be happy again.

The solitary moments were getting tedious. She wanted someone. _Needed. Craved. Desired. _She was alone in this life. And would it stay that way? She didn't know. Would she have more unfortunate events? She didn't know. Would her life be bleak and bitter? She didn't know, but she guessed there could be a high possibility as it was already bleak. Inside, Arya wept. She never fully realized the loneliness and bitterness of her life.

In mental conflict with herself, she didn't know what to decide. Here was the eccentric witch, offering the chance to know her fortune, her fate. The offer was rare; she knew that. She would never get the chance again. That is until of course, there was another eccentric herbalist who could offer her the chance. But, as solitary and unpromising her life looked to be, there could be more surprises.

Arya winced. Her conscience won. She sighed, slightly regretful, "Thank you Angela, but I must decline your offer."

The witch looked dismayed. Disappointed, even. But she nodded, "Alright. It is your choice."

Arya straightened fully. "Well, goodbye. I must go and carry out my duties," Arya offered a hesitant smile; "Good luck finding your mad rabbit."

With that, the elf left. Angela smiled. Did it occur to the Elven princess she had just left her in her tent? Angela deemed Arya was an interesting person. Surprisingly, she enjoyed her conversation with the elf.

However, Angela couldn't help noticing the earlier despondency in the her eyes, and it touched her slightly. She always seemed to be miserable, that elf. Although Angela was far older than her, she noted Arya had the experience and demeanour of a weary adult. She knew, in the eyes of her kind, elves saw their princess as a young adult. But anyone who took a closer look, would know that she bore a heavy burden. Her eyes were tinted with the sorrow and anguish of her life. She carried herself well, though; proud and noble. Just like a princess should be.

She hid herself from the world, locking herself away. Angela felt sympathy. Shuffling about, Angela looked around, astonished slightly at the elf's sparse furnishings. Only a pallet, a chair and a table piled with paper filled the tent. Arya was indeed an interesting person.

Curious about the elf's fate herself, Angela clutched the dragon's knuckle bones around her neck. She smiled. Well, the elf didn't want to know her fate, but she certainly did. Removing the knuckle bones from her neck, Angela studied them briefly. The bones were all there. Perfect. She surveyed the elf's tent, gleaning insightful information. She was ready.

Angela threw the bones in the air and shouted, "_Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!_"

The bones all fell jumbled together, gleaming under the soft light of the tent. Crouching low on the floor, Angela read the bones. She peered at them interestedly, trying to decipher the bones' meanings.

They were as hard to read as Eragon's. The bones all tangled together in a sophisticated pile and it meant that her future was clouded. Vague. Minutes gradually passed before she got a slightly clearer understanding of the bones. She read the clearest bones first:

Grief. Death; it would be someone close to her. And from the bones, the event looked soon to happen. Angela's sympathy welled for the elf. More misery would befall on her. Such a lovely young woman- greeted by more despairs. Angela moved on to read the other bones._ Interesting: _

The next bones read that an eventful and changing event will occur soon. This would irrevocably change her life forever. These bones were definite; it meant that this would inevitably happen. Nothing will give way to change this path. Angela didn't know if this would be favoured by her or not. She knew it was just a momentous happening. On to the next bones:

Pain. Pure and absolute pain. Angela winced. More sympathy for the elf. If the pain was physical or emotional, she didn't know, only that it would cause her to bury herself deeper into an impassive demeanour. Angela shook her head. Would there be no end to Arya's misfortunes? Angela had her answers as she shifted her attention to the next few bones. A little relief swept through her. The next bones were a bit more pleasant. No, a lot _more _pleasant.

The next bones read romance. Angela felt happiness for the elf. This section of the bones- the romance- were definite; whether the romance was already happening or would still need to happen, the bone didn't tell her. Only that her man would be a strong warrior, powerful beyond anyone his age. He was the embellishment of hope. He was also headstrong and a man of courage, loyalty and strength. The bone depicted that the man was handsome. The bones gave the impression of a princeling; a young handsome man. The ending to the romance was vague, but Angela wrestled a final answer from it. The love would outlast all empires, but it was unclear whether the love would have a happy ending. Nevertheless, Angela smiled. Perhaps there was happiness in Arya's life after all.

Angela looked at the rest of the bones. They were vague and scattered and she was unable to glean any more information. However, she was able to sense that the rest of the bones were filled with mostly misery and challenge. Sighing, Angela gathered herself, preparing to leave. She picked up the bones and tied them securely around her neck.

She needed to find Elva. The siege of Belatona would in a few hours and the little girl -despite her new found ability to ignore those in pain- would still need tending to. She needed to find her fast and give her a potion to calm her down. But first, Angela shook her head and muttered, "Now where is that rabbit?"

**-x-**

_And on that happy note, I say MERRY CHRISTMAS! Hope you enjoyed it-_

_Oh, wait. Aw okay, I'll write some more, for you guys. After all, it's Christmas ;)  
_

**-x-**

Murtagh stood on the platform, his expression one of reverence as he gazed at the dragon egg infront of him. Nasuada stood beside him, observing the dragon egg with astonishment and admiration. It was only the two of them on the raised platform, overlooking the dragon egg. Her Nighthawks were situated behind the platform, alert and always ready. Now, they seemed to be even more vigilant as Murtagh was only a few paces away from their leader. Nasuada paid them no heed.

Shifting her attention, she saw more guards line the tent's walls, preparing to take on the growing amount of people waiting outside. Nasuada had not yet requested them to come in yet.

Nasuada looked at the egg, feeling something profound as she looked down upon it. The green dragon egg was nestled safely on a high podium. One would simply have to step up onto the already placed pedestal and touch it. There, they would then find out if they were the destined rider of this dragon. Nasuada was awed by the shimmering of the dragon egg, its emerald hue the brightest colour in the room. It must be humbling to be the rider of this dragon. Softly, she whispered, "So amazing."

She felt Murtagh's penetrating gaze on her, as if scrutinizing her countenance. For a brief moment she didn't care, until the intensity of his gaze caused her to glance at him. "Being a Rider is not everything as it seems," Murtagh said unexpectedly.

Nasuada looked away, still unnerved by his gaze. She remembered it used to be so soft- a gentle gaze. Now they pierced like daggers, the blackness of his eyes almost unfathomable. She cleared her throat, "We will try for the first two hundred people. At this moment, the Varden are preparing for the siege of Belatona. As soon as the first two hundred are done, then the army must start to march."

Murtagh merely nodded his head. Nasuada gestured with her hand for the guard to let the people in. In a neat, orderly file, they began to fill the tent hall. Nasuada was pleased with how it was arranged. Neat. The first person, a male child of about five years old, accompanied by her mother reached the pedestal first. Nasuada nodded for them to continue.

With the boy's small fingers, he touched the dragon egg gently, laying his little palm on top of it. His mother held his other hand, hopeful that his son would be the rider. Nasuada sat down on her seat and studied the egg. She saw movement stirring from within the egg, but then it ceased. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. The assigned captain, gestured for the next one to proceed. The mother and child left.

Nasuada briefly glanced at Murtagh who remained standing, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Covered in the shadows, he looked like a predator, his eyes intently watching the next person to climb onto the pedestal. Nasuada couldn't help but notice how dark and dangerous he looked from under the shadows. He seemed to be the epitome of danger right then. His dark mane was slightly ruffled, from the way his hands roved it every now and then.

As if feeling her inspecting gaze on him, Murtagh's focused eyes flickered to Nasuada's. He looked at her fleetingly, as if he didn't really want to glance at her. Nasuada straightened, Murtagh's action causing her slight upset, more than it should have. She turned her attention to the next person; whom she guessed to be the seventh one by now.

Surprise filled Nasuada. A little girl, accompanied by the herbalist- Angela, climbed onto the platform with ease. She appeared slightly haughty then, the girl's purple eyes glinting in the dark. The silvery pattern of the Gedwey Ignasia sparkled on her forehead. Her dark hair tumbled innocently to her shoulders, but the little girl wasn't anything but. Nasuada had had the chance to be in Elva's company before, and she admitted, she didn't particularly find the girl pleasant. Elva was dangerous and ominous.

Angela nodded to Nasuada briefly, and her concerned eyes settled on Elva. The little girl gave Nasuada a smile; one that unnerved her. The girl was indeed unnatural, but Nasuada couldn't forget: this girl had saved her life.

Her palm hovering on top of the egg, Elva brushed it with her fingertips. Nasuada carefully studied the egg this time. She vaguely saw the outline of the baby dragon, moving silently about its egg. At Elva's touch, it gave a jerk, its little head turning upwards at the contact. It moved, its little body filling the egg. Nasuada held her breath, and from the shadows, she also felt Murtagh lean in. The indistinct outline of the baby dragon shifted, repositioning itself. A little claw moved, seemingly raking the inside of its shell. The baby dragon's tail unfurled, shifting around, moving like a ball.

Nasuada half-stood from her seat, amazed by the slow and tension-filled process. Nasuada met Elva's purple eyes. The little girl's mouth began to form a grin. Nasuada shifted her attention to the dragon egg again. It was still moving, its little head budging from side to side. It looked ready to burst through its shell.

Then, it stopped. The baby dragon ceased its movement and curled up again.

Elva was crestfallen. Nasuada met Angela's eyes quickly, knowing they were both feeling the same thing: relief. If Elva was the rider of the dragon, who knows what would happen? Nasuada restrained her sigh as Elva reluctantly removed her hand from the dragon. She regained a haughty countenance as she moved off the pedestal. Without turning back to look at the dragon, Elva ambled away, Angela right behind her.

**-x-**

Soaring above the clouds, Saphira somersaulted and dipped as Eragon laughed. The late morning air filled his lungs; fresh and clean. It had been a while since Eragon felt this joy; the ecstasy of flying. Below them, the Varden tents seemed like small squares, and the people were nothing but little dots. To their far left, to his Elven sight, Eragon saw the endless stretch of desert. He could discern a few mountain ranges, but his attention was focused on the skies above him. It was azure blue; the sight wonderfully blissful.

Eragon laughed as Saphira dove below, her wings tucked behind her. The momentum of the plunge sent Eragon forwards in his saddle, but he held on tightly. _Saphira, lend me your strength for this, _Eragon said, his voice mischievous, _I want to try something. _

Temporarily unsure, Saphira wondered about what her rider was planning to do. Eragon gave her a fleeting clue. Saphira instantly protested. _Dangerous. _

_It's been done before, _Eragon countered. And with that, he unstrapped the ties of his saddle. With only his firm, strong grip, Eragon held on a little longer. _Ready, Saphira?_

An ounce of reluctance emitted from her, but reluctantly, she complied, _You best have thought about this before, Eragon!_

Chuckling, Eragon let go of the saddle, _I have. _

His breath leaving him in a rush, Eragon shouted with joy. He was free-falling, his arms and legs wide, slowing down his descent slightly. The air whipped against his face, but it was refreshing. Adrenaline blasted through his veins, and Eragon felt his weight as nothing more than a feather. He breached through the clouds, his clothes instantly soaked. But his rapid plunge made the globules of water instantly disappear, drying instantly. The looming Varden tents filled Eragon's vision, but he continued to fall. The feel of the cold air was enlivening.

_Eragon! _Saphira warned as he continued to fall from the sky with furious speed.

As the ground rushed up to meet him, Eragon enchanted the spell, like he had previously done before, that immediately slowed his descent. From his strength and Saphira's borrowed strength, he fed the spell until it took its full effect. Balancing his body, Eragon allowed his feet to come first, his head feeling slightly dizzy with the rush. _That was fun! _Eragon exclaimed through their link. Saphira's response was a sense of reprimand, but she didn't voice it. Chuckling to himself, Eragon fully dried his clothes.

As his feet finally touched the ground, unsteadiness took him. His knees feeling shaky, Eragon allowed himself to drop on the ground. Half on his knees, half on the floor, Eragon turned his head to the skies, where Saphira circled above him like a predator. Smiling, Eragon composed himself before he stood up. He tightened Brisingr to his belt and he straightened fully, stretching. _See, wasn't that fun?_

Saphira replied, _For _you_. You made _me_ worried. _

Eragon shook his head, smiling a little. _Anyway, I have to go to Nasuada. At this moment, they are seeking a new rider for the dragon. I should have been present earlier but I wanted to fly with you._

Saphira softened a little, _Well, how kind of you. _

_See you later, Saphira, _Eragon grinned, _And look for Thorn. He must be lonely. _

Saphira gave the mental equivalent of a shove. Eragon laughed a little.

_Farewell for now, little one, _Saphira said, but nevertheless, from their link, Eragon gleaned she went off to see Thorn.

Eragon headed for Nasuada's tents, weaving through the tents silently. However, occasionally, there would be the salute from soldiers, admiration from children, and the fluttering of eye lashes from women that halted his tracks. But Eragon just nodded to them politely and proceeded to his destination.

As he came to turn a corner of a tent, Eragon nearly bumped into _her. _He blinked in surprise and she in return. Arya, dressed in her usual black leather outfit, looked at Eragon with surprise.

They stood there, rather like idiots Eragon concluded, until Arya finally spoke. "Eragon," She said, her voice slightly quiet, "...How are you?"

Eragon was momentarily speechless. Arya's dark hair cascaded down her shoulders perfectly, her figure desirable to any man. Her eyes, which were the most appealing aspect to Eragon, glimmered emerald as she met his gaze. He suddenly remembered their moment together the previous day. It was as if he could forget anyway. The memory had burned itself into his mind, every detail captured. He would re-live this memory every day of his life.

"I am fine, thank you for asking," Eragon replied, painfully conscious of just how beautiful and radiant Arya looked. She simply took his breath away. And he valued her. Gods, he did: more than he should've allowed. The urge and desire to take her into his arms was very nearly uncontrollable, but he managed. "And how are you, Arya?" Eragon asked, his voice sounding gentler than he should've let on. He thought he saw her flinch slightly at his warm tone.

"I am good thank you," Arya replied. The tension building up between them was almost palpable. Eragon hated the tension. They had been comfortable with each other before; but now they were both uneasy.

"Are you heading for Nasuada's tent?" Eragon asked, his eyes settling on hers. He had to look into them; to know that he still accepted her as a friend.

Arya's eyes drilled into his; and they never wavered, "Yes, I am."

Eragon straightened unconsciously, "So am I."

Arya nodded at his response, glancing away. They stood a step away from each other, and Eragon really disliked the tension that had built up yet again.

Wanting to make it all right again, Eragon inhaled and stepped closer to Arya. "About yesterday," He began, making Arya turn his intense gaze on him, "I am sorry to have caused you any distress or discomfort."

Arya's steely gaze seemed to have softened. "You haven't, Eragon."

Although her tone was convincing, Eragon heard the uncertainty in her voice. The step closer to Arya allowed him a closer view of her face. Despite her impassive expression, Eragon discerned the hidden pain behind her features. He admonished himself for yesterday; the action that had caused Arya to once again retreat into her old shell.

Seeking to bring her happiness, or at least lighten her mood, Eragon remembered a trick he had learnt from Ellesmera. In his mind, envisioning the golden lily, Eragon weaved his fingers in the air. The movement caught Arya's attention. Eragon gently twisted his right hand, until a shimmering form of a golden flower formed in the air. Spots of colour filled the air, gathering around Eragon's hand. The image solidified as Eragon curled his fingers around the stem. Arya's countenance was one of astonishment, surprise... and delight.

Eragon's heart soared at the sight. As the form of the golden lily finally took shape, he handed the flower to Arya.

**-x-**

Arya looked from the flower to Eragon in surprise. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and embrace him. But thankfully, she restrained the desire to, and instead, she graciously held out her hand and accepted the lily. She said silently, "Thank you."

Her hand closed around the stem, and for a brief second, their fingers touched. Arya swore she felt sparks sizzle between them, and her heart fluttered at the very sensation. She chastised her feminine side- for melting at the sight of Eragon's action. It proved to make her heart hammer. Never wavering from her gaze, Arya brought the lily to her nose, smelling its fresh scent. This moment was so precious. _He_ was precious.

"Thank you again," Arya said gently. Eragon beamed, his brown eyes gleaming. Gods, she loved the sight of him.

"You are welcome," He replied, his voice low and husky. Unexpectedly, her heart gave another flutter. Her stomach felt as though it flipped over, the sound of his voice caressing every nerve endings; making her feel so desired. She touched the lily's petals with her fingertips, brushing along the tips of each petal with delicate preciseness.

"Should we head for the tent?" Eragon asked, his smile lingering. Arya nodded, not trusting herself to speak as the memory of his handsome face burned into her mind...and heart. They walked, side by side, towards their destination. Arya held the lily, as her head began to replay the scene again.

**

* * *

**

_...So. How was it? Thought I was gonna make Elva the rider? __ Haha, naw. And I couldn't end the chapter without a little AxE. Besides, it's my present to you guys; the combination of Murtagh's section, Arya's and Eragon's. And hope you also enjoyed Angela's section about mad rabbits. Haha! In all seriousness, I do hope you enjoyed reading the chapter. _

_Hopefully, the next one will come after new year/January. THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT I'VE RECEIVED. YOU'RE ALL ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! _

_Again, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Have fun, and take care!... 'Tis the season to be jolly, la la la la la la, la la la la... xD  
_

_CJ._


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_Well... hello there. Has it been 2 months since the last update? o_o Hehe... well, I am truly sorry for the incredibly late update. Busy bee. xD But, I finally found the time to sit down and just type to my heart's content. Thus, the finished chapter. Voila. Hope you enjoy it. Please do review, or leave constructive feedback so I know where to work on. Thank you in advance guys! (And review replies from chapter 16 at the bottom ;)_

_-CJ  
_

_And please do read the previous chapter if you don't remember what happened._ ^_^

_

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*******  
_

The first two hundred had tried. All had failed.

Nasuada sighed as her guards ushered the last few people out of the tent. Nearby sentries remained beside the tent's walls, their expressions the usual blank mask. Murtagh suddenly stood beside her, like a phantom from the shadows. The way he moved so stealthily and with such predatory gaze invoked Nasuada's wariness, but also... something more profound. It thrilled and terrified her at the same time. However, she refused to expose her feelings and she glanced at him with an impeccably impassive demeanour.

"Your orders, Lady Nasuada?" Murtagh inquired, his eyes hard. His expression was fierce, but his features softened somewhat when he transferred his gaze from the dragon egg to her. Nasuada remembered those features unerringly well; how they would soften whenever he spoke of something he cherished and admired, or how they would look utterly mesmerizing when they settled into her eyes. Oh, she remembered. But something in the back of her mind heavily refused to let the memory surface into the forefront of her attention. Provoking such thoughts would render her helpless against this man. This man who she now knew so little about... yet willing to try and decipher. She must be mad.

She had barely known Murtagh even when they first met in Farthen Dur. Although she had been attracted to him instantly, she realized she never really knew him. Or he, her. They were strangers to each other. Nasuada inwardly flinched as Murtagh glanced at her for the second time. He was awaiting _her _orders.

Despite the lack of information they knew about each other, Nasuada could tell as much that Murtagh despised being subservient. It truly was not in a Rider's nature. Before she could suppress her emotion, a swell of sympathy rose for the man before her. Abruptly, she obscured it by tilting her head away.

"The first two hundred had tried. Unfortunately, none of them had been the destined rider of the green dragon egg." Nasuada sighed, "So, we must proceed to attack Belatona."

"Yes, I understand," Murtagh said, his tone slightly clipped. Nasuada gave him a sidelong glance and saw Murtagh's features almost as hard as stone. He seemed to be deliberating something, but he didn't voice it.

Turning away from him, Nasuada gestured for one of the guards to her command. The nearest one immediately came to her. "Send word to the captain and war generals; we advance to Belatona. Send messengers to Eragon Shadeslayer and Arya Shadeslayer to meet me here as soon as possible."

Absorbing all the orders, the guard bowed and hurried away. Gracefully, Nasuada faced Murtagh. "I trust you will work with Eragon to bring down Belatona's defences?"

"Yes," Murtagh inclined his head, "While we are in battle, may I request that the dragon egg be located safely in my tent?"

Nasuada hesitated slightly, but the accordance between them was still forming. She nodded, "Very well. I shall send a-"

Murtagh interrupted politely, "It is no problem, my Lady, I shall do it myself." He bowed ever so slightly. "I thank you for granting my request." Nasuada could only watch half in surprise, half in a daze as Murtagh sauntered over to the dragon egg, and placed it in a pouch.

Then he turned to her once more, his demeanour so painfully rigid and impassive she wondered if he ached from it, "I shall find Eragon before the start of the battle. I take it you do not require my presence any longer?"

Nasuada's voice was briefly hindered somewhat. She could only nod her head in response.

Gaining her permission, he walked away, his dignified march reminding Nasuada that this was the walk of a proud man who had lost almost everything.

**-x-**

Thorn hung over a dangerously steep precipe, his claws gripping the earth with minimal force. Perched on his back was his rider Murtagh. His countenance was one of utter resolve. His dark, obsidian eyes bore into the commotion ahead. The Varden were swift in their mustering, their armours glinting under the glare of the sunlight. Soon, they would start to march, and until then, Murtagh had only but to wait patiently.

It had only taken a few minutes to fly back to his tent and place the dragon egg in a safe location. Murtagh had enchanted particularly strong spells around the dragon egg and if anyone dare lay a hand on it but him, they would instantly be writhing on the floor. Agony would not come close to the sensation they would feel. Murtagh inhaled deeply. Today, he and Thorn would lay siege to Galbatorix's own forces. Oh, how sweet would that be. However, the Dark King had informed Murtagh that the battle today would be arduous. Galbatorix had been tampering with dark magic yet again, and conjured perhaps two more battalions of his army of the 'walking undead.'

Murtagh sighed. His task in this battle was to 'execute' most, if not all of the Elven spellcasters. Although he had numbed himself to feel nothing when ordered to kill, Murtagh was tremendously reluctant to carry out this particular charge. Elves were magical creatures, beautifully terrifying in battle and more than formidable. Without his Eldunari's, Murtagh was an equal match for each one. He would endeavour to carry out his mission no matter how disinclined he was. Besides, even if he opposed to his assigned task, he had no choice. To defy orders would result in immeasurable suffering. Better to carry out the 'executions.'

Long ago, Murtagh had known the difference between fighting and killing. But ever since his servitude to Galbatorix had been established, the fine line between the two had become vague and blurred. No longer did he know if he fought or killed. But one thing he was definitely sure of: he did not revel in the carnage of war.

He did what he always had to, and will do what must be done. It was his life on the line and be that as cowardly as it seems, he was not one to be a martyr. Let other people condemn and judge him. In the end, it would not matter. He was judged to condemnation ever since his birth. Why would it stop now?

**-x-**

"Lady Nasuada, I present to you Eragon Shadeslayer, and Arya Shadeslayer." Jarsha announced as they entered the tent. Nasuada was seated infront, motioning for them to take a seat.

"My Lady," Eragon inclined his head.

Behind him, Arya nodded, "Lady Nasuada."

The Varden Leader tilted her head at the formalities. They were not necessary from friends such as Eragon and Arya. "Please, seat."

Wordlessly, the pair obtained the seats infront of her. Despite Nasuada's tinge of fatigue from the day's earlier events, she was aware of Eragon and Arya's increasing closeness. Although their feelings seemed to be veiled Nasuada could not help notice the frequent glances that passed from between the two. However, they themselves did not seem to be fully aware of it. If war and leadership had not exhausted her character, Nasuada might have found the information amusing. But she was a leader, and she simply did not have the time to ponder on such things. Other matters desperately demanded her attention.

Disregarding introduction and other senseless formalities, Nasuada began, "Eragon, you have informed me that Murtagh no longer possesses any Eldunari's; is this true?"

"Yes, my lady," replied Eragon.

"But with both of your paramount strengths, will you have no difficulty battering Belatona's defences?"

"No, I do not believe so," Eragon paused, "But with Galbatorix aware of Murtagh's absence, I am of the strong opinion that he has taken precautions. I expect he has positioned in place a formidable amount of spellcasters, and perhaps summoned forth more of his 'undead' army."

Nasuada shifted in her seat, lightly touching her chin with her forefinger. "Based on what transpired when we encountered those vile creatures, I am dreading to as what Galbatorix has designed for this battle. One can only hope that he has not invoked another Shade." Nasuada sighed despondently.

She glanced at Eragon who could offer no reassurances to her words. "Despite with Murtagh on your side during the battle, I judge it to be prudent that you also have the Elven spellcasters aid you. I have contacted Queen Islanzadi as well; she came as close to _demanding _me that you be guarded in every forthcoming battle."

Shaking his head, Eragon replied, "Would they not be of better aid to the soldiers? With Murtagh with me, I have no doubt that I will need the additional strength- as valuable as it may be."

"Absolutely not." Nasuada and Arya both said in unison. The Varden leader glanced at the Elven ambassador who had uttered her first few words since entering the tent. Nasuada almost smiled at the tenacity in Arya's voice. She glimpsed the Elven Princess' slight shift as Eragon looked at her helplessly, silently imploring her to agree with him.

"I trust that Blodhgarm or Arya will be assisting you through the rest of the Elven spellcasters?" Nasuada inquired no one in particular.

Arya answered, "Yes, we will aid him while we also fight the Empire soldiers. Blodhgarm's company have perfected the art of aiding strength while also exerting their own." Nasuada could only imagine the difficulty of separating the two and maintaining them. She was both awed and thankful for the Elves' formidable strength.

"No, I assure you that it truly will not be crucial. I can-" Eragon's protest was interrupted by Arya.

"We cannot take chances, Eragon." She said simply, her emerald eyes almost daring Eragon to protest again, "As you said yourself, Galbatorix might have taken severe precautions. He may have possibly conjured further dark magic. We would do well to protect you from whatever he may have put in place." Arya's tone was firm, hinting the decision was final. Her intense eyes bore into Eragon's, the dare to protest still lingering in those depths.

Expecting Eragon would return the challenge, Nasuada decided it best to intervene before the two begin a dispute she knew would be difficult to end.

"It is final then." Nasuada said, asserting her authority, "The Elves will aid you, Eragon."

Exasperation suffused Eragon's features. Nasuada comprehended that he would not be able to deter the decision of two very adamant women. Arya seemed satisfied, her approval visible to Nasuada.

Eragon accepted his defeat in the discussion, "Very well."

Nasuada waved her hand, "Good. Dismissed." She smiled, but without cheer, "Next time I shall see you two, it will be in the heat of battle. The war horn will sound the commence of our advance."

In synchronization, Eragon and Arya stood. Nasuada still found the simultaneous behaviour intriguing. Keeping the knowledge to herself, she kept a formal countenance as the pair exited the tent.

"Arya..." Eragon called to her as they began to walk their separate ways. Gracefully, Arya spun round, her face expressing nothing but an inexpressive mask. However, her eyes betrayed her; the depths revealing their curiosity and concern from Eragon's call.

Eragon looked slightly uncomfortable, and his speech left him in a rush as he said, "You informed Nasuada and I that the Elven spellcasters will be fighting during the battle whilst aiding me strength," He paused, staring into her eyes, "I do not believe that will be required at all. It will simply cause distraction." _A distraction that might cause you your life, _Eragon murmured in his head, hoping Arya would concur with his standpoint.

Arya's countenance was one of insistence, "We are more than capable, Eragon. You know the Elves' prowess in battle."

Eragon tried not to grind his teeth with frustration. He remained rigid, trying not to divulge the real motive of his reason: he simply did not want Arya harmed. From sustaining him during battle, it might very well be her undoing. He will not have it.

Arya looked at him with the same blank mask, awaiting his words. However, unveiled curiosity still lingered in her eyes.

But... Eragon did not want to anger or affront her with the real purpose of his reasoning. He sighed softly. With Arya's stubborn and strong determination, he decided that he would not be able to dissuade her from anything. He tilted his head, "Ah yes. I trust in you and the Elves' formidable competence in battle. I would do well not to doubt it."

Arya seemed unconvinced by Eragon's words, and knew he had not voiced the real purpose of his earlier statement. Having questions unanswered frustrated Arya beyond her limits. Especially if it was Eragon who withheld it. Annoyance blistered within her, the mounting curiosity adding to Arya's dissatisfaction. However, she had perfected her façade with decades of practice; the only emotion that could possibly give her away were her eyes. The pair of emerald traitors was her demise with restraining reactions. Sometimes, the eyes revealed more than she desired to impart.

Eragon smiled at her, almost sheepishly; as if to placate her. He thought she was affronted by his reasons. How wrong he was. Arya's annoyance had vanished instantaneously... only to be replaced by self-irritation. How dare her body react to his actions! Her eyes had betrayed her... now her body.

Arya gathered herself instantly, "Very well, I will lead the other Elven spellcasters near the knoll up ahead. We will meet you there."

Eragon inclined his head. "Saphira and I will be there as soon as possible."

Wordlessly, Arya walked away. Fortunately, she was just in time to hide the blush that crept up to her cheek as she recalled Eragon's feeble, but almost _endearing _attempts at dissuading her from aiding him. She knew his reasons. And oh, how they perplexed her. In all her existence, she had never known another such as Eragon: a being that could both exasperate and captivate her.

Arya _knew_ his reasons. She ought to be extremely infuriated at the fact that he _believed _she would be harmed in battle. She told him- rather coldly- long ago that she was not some helpless human female, entailing protection from males. But a part of her, however trivial that part was compared to her warrior nature, was both fascinated and touched at the fact Eragon still attempted to defend her. Her hidden womanly trait had surfaced, awakened by Eragon. By all rights, she should really be enraged by his protectiveness.

...But, she found herself smiling instead. _Smiling! _Arya sighed deeply as she entered her tent. Eragon was a quandary she knew she would find herself endeavouring to decipher. No matter what logical but truthful reasons for being with Eragon her mind threw at her; her heart had stubbornly opposed it. It was as if she... Arya Drottningu, _yearned_ to be with _him_. No, she did not need this right now. Over the past week, Eragon had been driving her insane; pushing her to her constraints and barely concealed emotions. What had possessed her recently to transform into a giddy, foolish girl? Everything she had been bracing herself from, everything she was trying to bury unceasingly kept rising to the surface. Bah, was there even a use at trying to hide it?

Arya had conceded defeat a while ago. Oh, she remembered vividly. It had been in the dark, winding maze of the underground cells; underneath the Hadarac Desert when she realized her unexpected surrender:

'_It was a strange, foreign emotion that she deigned it was nothing she ever felt._

_It was plausible even, if that emotion she felt, is possible…, that it could be called __that. __Because at that perfect, apparent moment, she realized something: she would, if she could, take all the pain he ever felt and was feeling and transfer it all into her soul._

_Nothing should ever harm him again._

_The __emotion ran deep, swiftly filling her very essence, her heart. As she crouched there, listening to his very faint breathing, giving him all the energy he needed, she concluded that what she felt was pure and utterly real. Progressively, and gently, she fleetingly let her hand skim the upper left side of his chest, where she knew the opposite, yet still a perfect pair of her very soul lay._

_There, she surrendered her heart and conceded to the defeat she knew didn't take too long to overwhelm her:_

Love._'_

Arya sighed. One day, she feared she just might _willingly _submit to her heart.

**-x-**

Sat atop Saphira, Eragon observed the army as they resumed shaping the growing war formation. His eyes scanned the crowd for the elf, Blodhgarm. Despite Murtagh now on their side, Eragon had lost the argument with Nasuada and Arya: he was to be aided by the Elven spellcasters. They could not lose their Rider now. Though Eragon deemed it quite superfluous, he had to link his mind to the Elven spellcasters, lest face the wrath of their Elven Queen. Or rather, and perhaps worse- the wrath of their princess...

A smile came unbidden to his lips as the very person Eragon had been thinking about caught his attention. Distinguishing the streak of dark, midnight hair amongst the crowd below, Eragon glimpsed Arya. Even from the skies, Eragon could discern her usual black leather attire. With her dark hair braided, and her dark armour, Arya appeared like a fleeting shadow. But, a beautiful shadow at that.

Then, summoning his vast resource within Aren, Eragon enchanted numerous wards- more than necessary- around the Elven princess. No harm would come to her, not even the slightest scratch.

_It's not like she'd allow herself to be bested in swordsmanship anyway, _Saphira interjected, snorting in laughter. She had been quietly listening to her Rider's "mooning" over the _beautiful-she-elf_ and had now finally voiced her thoughts on the matter. Through their bond, Saphira felt Eragon redden slightly.

He stammered, _Well...one can never be too sure._

Saphira shook her head, chortles of laughter escaping her throat. But, she was well aware that nothing will dissuade her _two-legged-rider_ from withdrawing the excessive safety wards around _the elf-princess-Arya_.

Because Saphira knew that she might as well have been demanding her Rider to rip out his chest.

**-x-**

Nasuada was in her tent when the war horn blew twice; signifying that the first battalions had started to march. Farica and other elder woman had just finished garbing Nasuada with her armour. With her sword buckled at her hip, and a helmet placed upon her head, she dismissed them.

Looking at her reflection on a mirror, Nasuada allowed herself a small smile. If only her father could see her now. She had vowed to make him proud, and she ardently wished she had done so. The thought of her father, along many other things, had been the sole reason why Nasuada had endured the Trial of the Longknives. The sharp, piercing blades had been excruciating. But if she had lost, the anguish and dishonour would be incomparable to the physical affliction.

Nasuada lightly skimmed over the scars on her forearms. They were symbols of her personal victory, and her achievement. Eragon had even offered to heal them, but she refused any magic to touch her. The scars were a reminder of what she has sacrificed and endured for the Varden. A representation of the loyalty and resolve she held towards her people. She cherished the scars. After all, she wasn't dead was she?

Tightening her vambraces once more, Nasuada exited her tent. Her guards were immediately with her as soon as she stepped out. Nar Garzhvog and his sentry of Urgals hastily located themselves behind her, their grunting seemingly louder than the industrious commotion created by the Varden army. Nasuada observed the formation taking shape ahead, when a cavalry of yet more guards galloped around the corner.

Jörmundur, perched atop his horse and at the head of the group, was gripping the reins of a horse beside him. He offered a small salutation to Nasuada, in which she graciously inclined her head to. Jörmundor halted a reasonable distance from her. "Nasuada," He greeted, handing her the reins of her horse, "I am the commander of your guards for this battle. A good thirty men will be at your defence."

"Thank you Jörmundur," Nasuada said as she took the reins from him. Wordlessly, she hauled herself up on the saddle.

Nasuada's horse snickered as she tugged at its reins. Her attention turned to her over-protective guards. They surrounded her defensively, keeping her in the centre of their now rigid and solid formation. There were times when she thought it wasn't overly necessary to have such a great amount of sentries, but ever since her attempted assassination at Aberon- she, especially Jörmundur- had to take immediate action. Whatever number of guards Nasuada had suggested, Jörmundur had doubled it. It would be useless to argue with the captain; Nasuada had already attempted to do so, but Jörmundur would not be wavered from the issue. He was as stubborn and persisting as a mule.

To add to Nasuada's irritation on the matter, a few more Nighthawks emerged from every direction, their black armour signifying their importance as guards. She inwardly screamed at the excessively assigned protection.

Several Nighthawks, a couple of Urgals and Kulls and throw in a few spellcasters; well, with a few more elves and humans, there were enough for a small army! Really, why not? At that point, no one would approach her and if they did, Nasuada was sure that she wouldn't even be able to even catch a glimpse. Ah, but what choice did she have? When it came to protecting their leader, they were all fearless, loyal and relentless. A part of her admired and cherished it deeply.

Jörmundur's horse trotted at the head of the rather large procession, brandishing his sword. They were ready to go.

Together with her guards and the Urgals, Nasuada proceeded infront of the Varden. The battle horn sounded three times yet again. Nasuada looked up, just in time to glimpse Saphira plummet from a cluster of clouds. Seconds later, ruby streaked the sky as Thorn followed close behind. The sight was both magnificent and inspiring, the dragon's scales glimmering luminously as the sunlight hit them. Both dragons plunged towards the earth, Saphira's voluminous wings unfurling as she neared the army. Likewise, Thorn did the same, albeit in a less elegant manner.

Nasuada's horse sped up as the formation around her did so. The Varden was vast in size, and it had taken almost half a day to rouse the whole army. Upon finally reaching the head of the army, Saphira swooped lower, her beating wings causing a slight whirlwind. Nasuada was grateful for her helmet, otherwise her mossy dark hair would have been whipping her face at the very instant. Eragon glanced at her from his saddle, a small smile gracing his lips.

Fleetingly, an immense mind touched Nasuada's barriers. Although she was quite familiar with the sensation, Nasuada recoiled every time someone pervaded her mind. It was as if they were gaining insight to her soul. _Nasuada, Murtagh and I will attack as soon as the first wave of the Varden strikes. _Eragon's voice floated in her mind, _The Elven spellcasters are to aid me... as you have requested._

She nodded, the action acknowledged by Eragon as he tilted his head. Saphira ascended higher, her magnificent sapphire scales reflecting the sunlight. Soon, Saphira and Thorn were beyond the clouds again, patiently waiting for the initiation of battle.

As Nasuada's guards finally came to a stop, she held her hand in a commanding gesture. Nasuada shivered slightly, dreading the battle. Instinctively, she knew that Galbatorix's army would not easily be defeated. Although with Murtagh as an additional ally, fear burgeoned within Nasuada's heart as she stared straight ahead. The dark walls of Belatona awaited them.

Behind those walls, Nasuada heard the faint drums of war. Preparing herself for an arduous battle, she looked to Jörmundur, who had been silently awaiting for her orders. Closing her eyes momentarily, she wished for Guntura's blessing, for she feared they might need it. Invoking the strength within her, Nasuada opened her eyes, and straightened her back proudly.

They were so close to Uru'baen. They would not fail now. The Empire army would deliver a massacre, and they would do well to withstand the upcoming hammering. However, with determined hearts, they would lay siege to every opposing city. Her father had spent his lifetime trying to bring down Galbatorix.

Nasuada held up her hand.

And as Ajihad's daughter, she was going to finish what her father had started.

Jörmundur nodded and bellowed a command. Somewhere behind the army, a long and deep rumble resonated to everyone's ears. It lasted for a few seconds before the war horn blew sonorously for one last time. The Varden began to march:

The siege of Belatona had begun.

**

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**

_**AN:**_

_Ta-da! Hope you enjoyed it. Gah, I am soooo slow in updating. So once again, I sincerely apologize. And I'm also sorry to have left the chapter in almost-a-cliffhanger. Hehe... cos I am evil like that. ^_^_

_Thank you for the new readers who've joined us, and for the reviews! And now for the replies:_

_Fanabelle: Yes, here it is! __ I intend to complete this story, no matter how long I take. _

_JordanMathias: Haha, thank you. I did enjoy writing her part._

_Bibliophile1521: Yes, I have plenty instore for Nasuada and Murtagh. I was unsure at first what to do with the pair of them, but I have now finalized a "sort-ish" plan for them. You'll have to keep reading to find out ;). _

_Adrine: First of all, I'd like to say a big thank you to you. You've been reviewing ever since I can remember. You've been a great support and an awesome reviewer.  
I expected Angela to turn badly, or it may have come across as 'overdone', but I'm glad that I seemed to have written her in character. Arya's fortune will indeed come to pass, and one of them will be written soon in the upcoming chapter. ;) Thank you again for your review and support! _

_Restrained Freedom: Hehe, thank you! I liked that particularly scene too. Writing it was enjoyable. I added the Elva 'freakout scene'-as you've put it xD- as something last minute. I honestly did not expect it to blend with the whole chappie, but it was... interesting writing it. I wanted to see reader's reactions if Elva _could _have been the rider. Anyway, thanks for your review. _

_XxWeixX: Haha, no way I would have made Elva the rider. For the next rider, you'll have to keep reading. ;) Although you might already know from my deliberate display of favouritism of characters *cough cough.* But don't worry, there's a twist involved. _

_Riahmck: Thank you. Ah, yes 2 years. I'm glad I continued writing too. ^_^_

_Adurna Nightstar Evanshade: Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it. I love writing the moments between ExA, and I'm glad that you enjoy it. Nothing pleases me more, as a FF writer, to hear from a reader that my story can relate to them. :D I was contemplating whether to write a one-shot ExA, but I'm not particularly sure. I do have a few in mind though. Thank you again! I'm sorry that the update did not occur sooner than planned. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Originally, I was gonna miss out the ExA bit in this chapter, but for the ExA fans like you out there, I decided to write it._

_Pens Insanity: Thank you very much. Yes, Arya's character is indeed difficult to write, but I have sort of moulded her personality that is more open, and thus, can relate to readers with the insight to her character.  
Yes, I dislike how I wrote that part as I rushed the plot. I might go back and edit it sometime. But I'm not sure. /: Haha, I know Arya's fortune will interest some readers... well, I'm not giving anything away, but one might guess if they look into it. (; _

_Ah, Eragon and Arya. Well, as I am one for angst and tension (I am probably a sadist like you xD), I'd like to maintain their current relationship now. And I always like writing their moments. But you never know... BAM!- I might insert a shocker. Haha... nah. I guess I am a pretty predictable writer, but I might surprise you guys, you never know. _

_And Roran... hmmm... I'll bring him in next chappie. The reason for his absence is truly because of my dislike of his character. Hm, actually dislike might be too strong a word to describe it. But, yes, as 'unprofessional' of me as an author as that may seem, I am not really inspired to write about him. But, he is one of the most significant characters of CP's, so I shall include him next chapter. (: _

_Sorry for the late update, but hope I still made you happy. Hehe.. Thanks for the review! ^_^_

_GeeIsHot: Hi there! ;) Thank you. Yes, you should get into it more. You know how much I love Inheritance, so we can be crazy together. Haha... xD Well, you'll have to keep reading! Like I said to some of the readers, I will not give away anything... of course, apart from the text that is already presented to you. Thank you for the review! 3 _

_Partin, FlexManSteel, ScorpiAssassin; thank you for your reviews! _

So there you go. I appreciate your reviews guys. They are my inspiration for writing...

_-CJ_


	18. Chapter 18

_So hey, I'm alive. Sorry for the inactivity. Exams and such are keeping me busy, blah-di-blah. But the next update should come in about a month. If you're still with me, thanks. If you're not... well you're not reading this anyway, but thanks for the reviews! Please do look back at the previous chapters if you don't remember the story. I have also decided to change Chapters 1-7... they will be under maintenance after chapter 19. It'll be nothing major and won't twist the plots already arranged for the rest of the story. So yeah :)  
_

_I added a twist at the end of this chapter, which I only thought of while writing the chappy. So I don't know how the upcoming chapters will develop, but I assure you it'll be pretty good. Feel free to PM me; to ask about the story, or if you just want to get to know me :) It's always nice to know some of your readers... :D_

_So I didn't re-read this as I am rushing to get some last minute revision done before I go to sleep. But feel free to leave constructive critisim or just comments. But I don't like flaming. They're mean. I can take them. But I'd rather not have them._

_In advance, thanks for your reviews and support. And special thanks to those readers who are still with me. _

_-CJ  
_

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Battle Of Belatona**

The sun had reached its zenith and shafts of light pierced through the cluster of clouds. Bathed in yellow fire, the skies seemed to have burst in all its glorious vibrancy. But below, reflected the world in all its hostility.

Ruby and sapphire flames filled the skies as the Varden army surged forward. At the front of the Varden were a large group of Kulls and Urgals who hastily charged ahead, their mighty axes and bulky swords glinting in the sun's glare. Roars of delight and incomprehensible war cries filled the air as the gigantic creatures progressed to sprints, their love of carnage and war spurring them on.

The very ground shook at the hard footfalls of such beasts.

Not far behind the advancing Urgals and Kulls, commanders of the Varden's army rushed forward, brandishing their swords towards Belatona's gates. Jormundur, at the head of the structured spearhead formation, led the first hundreds of the Varden army towards Belatona. Nasuada had fallen back considerably to the heart of the Varden army, her heavy circle of sentries and an even thicker circle of soldiers enveloping her. Around her circle, Nasuada distinguished which ones were her guards and which ones were the soldiers. Soldiers ran ahead, while the ring formation of her guards remained firmly on their ground.

The rest of the Varden army continued to flow around them, mighty cries and hollers filling the air with vigour and energy. But above, crows already circled; their sinister caws a daunting reminder of what will become of them if they should fall.

Sapphire and ruby streaked the sky as the first of the Urgals and Kulls reached a closing distance towards Belatona's gates.

Black clouds formed just above the high walls of Belatona. Arrows furiously whizzed through the air, swiftly seeking their targets. Above the torrent of shots, Thorn released an eruption of ruby blaze, obliterating the black-tipped arrows. Boisterous shouts echoed from below, the strident clamour of swords and spears intensifying as soldiers from within Belatona's walls scurried to hold their frontline defence.

Fear and panic swept through the Empire's ranks as the two dragons hovered above their walls.

Eragon observed the soldiers below as Saphira let loose a jet of sapphire flames, working with Thorn as another round of volleys were fired from behind Belatona's walls. However, they were not successful in eradicating all of the arrows and some rained down on the Varden. Soldiers helplessly fell and toppled over each other as the arrows pierced through their wards and armours. Still, the Varden swiftly surged forward, hurrying to catch up with the Urgals and Kulls.

The first of the enormous creatures met the gates of Belatona with vigorous force. Several Kulls carried a wooden battering ram which they forcefully hammered against the crumpling gates of the city.

In the back of Eragon's mind, he felt Arya's mental link firmly latched onto his. His link to Arya's was no more than a mental touch away. From the vague colour of her mind, Eragon sensed that she and the Elven spellcasters had yet to reach the city. Their position lied in the Varden's centre bulk, where they could both aid Eragon and readily spring to attack or defend the army in any moment's time. A faint melody drifted from Arya's mind, an action the elf princess could not have prevented nor aware of. Eragon, however, was grateful for the distinct melody as it drowned out the horrible screams of dying soldiers.

Working with Murtagh to bring down Belatona's defences, Eragon's elven eyes sought out targets. His eyes settled on Belatona's archers who continued to release volleys after volleys of arrows.

Mind numb, Eragon urged Saphira to approach the walls. Ivory claws tore through armours as soldiers plunged to their deaths. Joining Saphira, Thorn descended low, tackling soldiers off the top of the walls. Eragon glanced below; noticing hundreds upon hundreds of Empire soldiers lining the other side of Belatona's gate entrance. Transferring his gaze, Eragon saw the Kulls' spirited persistence in breaking the gates.

_Once they breach the city, they will be met by a force they're not capable of meeting head-on, _Eragon voiced as he observed more archers scuttling on the other side of the walls. Saphira acknowledged Eragon's statement and roared. Thorn veered his way towards her, and Eragon saw Murtagh's expression as he observed the adversary's position behind the walls.

Opening his mind to Murtagh with minimal access, Eragon suggested, _Saphira and I will kill the archers. As soon the Kulls have broken through- _Eragon glimpsed the Kulls' progress; it was only a matter of seconds before they would break into the city- _you and Thorn slash your way through their front lines. _

Murtagh nodded in agreement. Sapphire and ruby plummeted behind the walls of Belatona. The timing was perfect.

A roar of cheer echoed from Belatona's entrance as Eragon discerned the Kulls' success into breaching the front gates. Arrows were loose from their bows, and Saphira was in time to release a jet of sapphire flame that disintegrated all of it. A rush of wind blew around them as Thorn soared dangerously close, heading for the front lines of the Empire army.

Kulls sprinted forward, their legs carrying them quickly to the adversary's front lines. Accompanied by Thorn, they slashed their way through, blood exploding around them as they hacked and sliced ruthlessly. Successful in eliminating the archers, Saphira flew upwards.

As they gained altitude, a sense of unease settled over Eragon. _This seemed too easy, _he voiced to Saphira. Suddenly, a mental tendril pierced his first ring of mental defences. He recognized it instantly. Arya.

Immediately, he broadened his link to hers, allowing full access to his mind. _A vast number of soldiers approach from the south. _Arya said, her tone tinged with the slightest of blossomed within Eragon as he realized the indications of a trap. Where had the soldiers come from? Neither he nor the Varden saw them when they marched from Feinster.

Arya sent him a mental image. Eragon's dread intensified as he distinguished them to be the undead soldiers. Hundreds upon hundreds of them trudged forwards, bearing swords, spears and axes. But none held shields. Of course who needed them when they are able to rise again and again, even after multiple hackings? Eragon informed Murtagh quickly, who only acknowledged the news with inexpressive countenance. _You and Thorn remain here. Try to secure the city. _

Murtagh sent the mental equivalent of a nod. Eragon returned to Arya's link.

_How long till they collide with the Varden? _Eragon asked, as Saphira manoeuvred her way towards the undead soldiers' destination.

_No more than a minute. _Arya replied, the hint of apprehension apparent in her tone, _They attack the Varden's rear. I have informed Nasuada. She is turning half the army around as we speak- _Eragon glimpsed ahead, noticing half the Varden changing direction_, -King Orrin leads the rest to the city. Blodhgarm is managing some of the elves to help acquire the city and I and the rest of the spellcasters are heading towards the south. We will meet you there._

Eragon voiced his earlier thoughts, _How come we were not able to see them on our way from Feinster?_

_I only presume that Galbatorix didn't want them seen until the Varden had managed to breach the city. I believe he wanted to half the Varden's strength by having a diversion. _Arya paused,_ This way, the Varden has to defend and assault from back and front. It greatly reduces our chances of attaining Belatona. _Her conclusion sounded logical to Eragon.

His worries increased all the more as Saphira reached the back of the army. He realized soldiers at the rears of every army were the ones most untrained or unskilled. Having them attack head-on with baleful and dangerous creatures such as Galbatorix' creation would result in many casualties.

Eragon sought Arya's mind yet again, _Have them informed that this group of soldiers can only be killed through the heart. _

_They are aware. _Arya replied. From her mind, Eragon discerned her location. He placed her and her elven companions near the front of the attacking army.

_We will reign hell from the skies, _Saphira growled through the link as she gave an earth-quaking roar. Preparing for an arduous battle, Eragon tightened the straps on his foot as Saphira began to descend from the clouds.

Eragon glimpsed Arya and some of the elves whom all appeared fierce and ferocious as they cut and sliced through the ranks of the undead soldiers. Arya's raven tresses were tied up, her hair swinging wildly as she spun and twisted with the grace the elves were gifted with. Her thin elfin sword was a blur in the mass of bodies. As she whipped around, her eyes directly met Eragon's. Emerald eyes burning with intense fierceness, she acknowledged Eragon with the slightest tilt of her head.

Like the predator of the skies, Saphira swoop down, her claws ripping flesh and snapping heads. Unsheathing Brisingr, Eragon stabbed and sliced opponents as Saphira tilted slightly to one side, allowing him to deliver death blows to the undead.

_This combat will last for the whole day, _Eragon voiced his thoughts to Arya as a few minutes passed. He observed the enormous mass of undead soldiers hacking and slicing their way through the Varden's ranks, _although we know how to kill them, it'll be hard. Protect Nas-_

An intense piercing pain stabbed through Eragon's mental defences. Like a sharp spear, the mental tendril caused a rupture in Eragon's barriers. Eragon let out a cry. Saphira momentarily faltered in her flight as she attempted to fly to the skies.

It was the kind of pain experienced after a sword was pulled out of the flesh; raw and absolute. Somewhere in the confines of his mind, Eragon felt Arya and the other elves through his link flinch in pain.

Like a metal sword ringing from impact, the sound reverberated through Eragon's mind, pulsing and intensifying. Bracing himself, Eragon held his mental defences tighter, mending the fissure in his mind while Saphira's consciousness attempted to numb the agonizing ache. Eragon prepared to counter attack.

But, the presence did not return.

Arya spoke, as though through gritted teeth, what _was that? _Eragon still felt the pain trying to lodge its way through the rest of his mind. He restrained it from reaching Arya or the others.

_I do not know, _Eragon replied stiffly, his head pounding; _it is a presence I have never encountered before. _

Unexpected and fleeting, the mental tendril returned, this time, not only delivering a sharp prod, but a forceful impact, jarring Eragon's mind yet again. He felt Saphira, Arya and the other elves recoil in shock and pain.

Frustration mounting to an incredible level, Eragon said, _I must severe my link, _addressing Arya and the elves,_ Try to find the presence; you have felt it. _

Before the connection could be cut, Arya protested, _No! We cannot-_

_I cannot endanger anyone, _Eragon interrupted, _the presence is targeting me. _

_But we can aid you if-_

_No, Arya. _Eragon said almost gently, _Saphira and I will handle it. If we should need your help, I will contact you. But for now, I shall attempt to seek it out. _Hesitantly, he added, _take care._

Breaking the link, Eragon settled into his mind, and ordered Saphira to fly over the combat. Setting a ruse, Eragon opened his mind slightly, allowing his presence to be exposed to any who sought him. In almost a rush, the presence returned. Prepared for the attack, Eragon instantly closed his mind and latched onto the presence. It was like holding a burning sword. It blistered Eragon's mind. He gritted his teeth in pain.

Eragon voiced a spell, inflicting a forceful impact on the alien presence. It merely flinched. Suddenly it shackled his consciousness, restricting any of his mental tendrils to reach out to anyone. Instinctively, Eragon summoned a spell which severed its binds on him and the presence immediately retreated. Eragon did not give it a chance.

He followed the presence's tendril and sought out its core. Eragon was surprised at what he found. The presence's physical appearance was neither any race he knew nor a shade. It was entirely different. From its mind, Eragon discerned that the being was a cross between an elf and a shade. It had maroon eyes, but the ears were tapered like an elf's. The face was angular and defined, and most definitely female. The face was framed with long, dark, straight hair. She would be considered beautiful if not for the glaring maroon eyes.

Familiarity struck Eragon. He tried to remember the name but it evaded him.

In shock of the presence's identity, Eragon momentarily halted his attack. The presence seized the opportunity and _strangled _Eragon's consciousness. _She, _the presence, wrapped her mental tendrils around his mind and squeezed. Saphira broke through Eragon's mind and endeavoured to crush the presence.

She retreated and came back within the same second. Forcefully, she attacked Eragon and Saphira's mind, and they both gave a cry of pain. She delivered a sharp blow to their mental defences, breaching it. It sent jolts and waves of pain through Eragon's mind and he gripped his head in a state of agony. Saphira roared, shaking her head from side to side as the presence began to emit a high pitch tune which affected Saphira. For a few seconds, acute torture ruled both rider and dragon. With a modicum of strength, Eragon returned a counter attack. His lessons with Oromis were not forgotten.

With a rare spell, he sent a mental eruption to the presence's psyche. That seemed to have shook off the presence and Eragon was free from the shackles.

He debated whether to link his mind to Arya, but the thought of endangering her distressed him more than anything. But there was always the possibility of the presence seeking Arya and without any more hesitation, Eragon allowed his link to access her.

Her mind in a state of annoyance and in preparation of a reprimand, Arya began to shout, _Eragon! Don't ever-_

Eragon started to explain when the presence returned again. He half shielded Arya's mind in instinct and prepared another assault. Eragon and the presence battled for mental supremacy while Eragon felt Arya temporarily become immobile. In shock or upon infliction, he wasn't sure.

As Eragon's mind exploded in yet another flash of white hot pain, Arya's deafening shout echoed in the mental battlefield, _Kialandí!_

* * *

Author's Note:

_Oh, and before I disappear... for another erm... month, I'd like to recommend** 'A Wayward Journey'** **by Reverent** and **'By The Light of A Spark' by Collier World. **I'm sure some of you are already reading them and like me, I'm sure you guys are also entertained and captivated by these stories. I know I am ;) They are amazing. And they update regularly, unlilke me -.- Haha... Anyway, they are the stories/authors who inspire me to keep writing. So, shout out to them. _

Anyway, I am off. But I am available through PM. So any messages, feel free ;) Thanks in advance for reviews.

_-CJ  
_

-CJ_**  
**  
_


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19  
**

Author's Note:  
_So here's the chapter guys! Hope you like it. I kinda lost the plot, so now I think I'm just doing it as I go along. But don't worry, I'm trying to fix any plotholes or anything. That's the way forward, eh? Haha. But I doubt I will as I have majorly introduced something new to this chapter. I'm trying to get it as close to what book 4, Inheritance, might contain. So, if you have read all the chapter excerpts, you'll know what I'm talking about._

_Oh and by the way, one major thing I nearly forgot to mention, I have changed my pen name! So I was previously known as Elf PrincessCJ (I kinda grew out of it now, haha), but I've now changed it to CrizelJ. It is my actual name, plus the first initial of my second name. So yeah, weird name huh. So, just making sure you guys are aware of that._

_Anyway, I won't delay you any longer..._

* * *

_As Eragon's mind exploded in yet another flash of white hot pain, Arya's deafening shout echoed in the mental battlefield, _Kialandí!

...

Stunned, Eragon barely restrained his shock and surprise from surfacing to his mental barriers. Kialandí was a Dragon Rider and she had joined Galbatorix in his quest to conquer Alageasia. She was responsible for the death of Arva, during the invasion of Uru'baen- then called Illirea. Shortly after that; along with another rider, Formora, they captured Oromis and Glaedr. They had tortured the rider to the point that he lost the ability to weave but all the simplest of spells. They might have also been responsible for Glaedr's disfigured leg. All these short and abrupt thoughts registered in Eragon's mind in quick succession, followed by an explosion of complete and utter fury.

Eragon's remembrance of Oromis' difficulty to cast spells, and Glaedr's magnificence tarnished by the loss of his leg, had been caused by the former Dragon Rider in close vicinity of them, Kialandí. Like a terrible whirlwind, deep within Eragon's core began a mounting vehemence and ferocity that he himself could not contain. Intensified by Saphira's burgeoning wrath, both Rider and Dragon roared as one. Mind fully merged, Eragon could not separate his mind from Saphira's. They were one; a whole. His mind constructing a steel safeguard, Eragon's chest swelled with the scarcely contained rage. Summoning his innermost strength, he attacked; a force magnified by his and Saphira's emotions, and inflicted a mental damage, the likes of which he never thought could be achieved. Across their mental battlefield, and earth rupturing explosion sounded. Kialandí, having taken the brunt of the immense attack, immediately retreated, a sense of alarm and surprise escaping her mind before she could stop them.

Barely registering in his mind, Eragon felt Arya's own emotions leaking into theirs. Oromis had been a close person in Arya's life, and the fact that Kialandí was an elf- one of her own, made her act of betrayal even worse. Her fury rivalled Eragon's, and to have to share her mind in the midst of her wrath both terrified and awed Eragon. Like a tempest, her mind unintentionally fused with his and Eragon was swept away by her disarrayed thoughts and emotions. Despite elves' renowned characteristic to always keep their emotions checked and locked, Arya displayed no sign of keeping it contained.

Although Eragon's wrath was great, Arya's mounted, like a terrible unstoppable wave. Eragon sought Kialandí, but her mind seemed to have obliterated from his mental radar. Before he could calm Arya, another mental tendril probed his. Eragon recoiled, but he recognized the mind; Blödhgarm. Immediately, he closed off the rest of his mind, but allowed a small space for a mental exchange with the elf.

_Shur'tugal, we require your assistance in the city, _Blödhgarm informed, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

Eragon glanced at the battle below him, the undead against the Varden. He gritted his teeth. There were many of them; the Varden would not be able to withstand them for long. Eragon no longer felt Kialandí, but instinct told him that she might have fled. Against three powerful beings- a Rider, a Shadeslayer and a Dragon- even an Elven Shade, or whatever she may be, would not be able to stand their strength combined. There would come another day when he will meet her again, and Eragon swore that he would deliver vengeance and justice. But for now, other matters pressed upon him. _Send word to King Orrin and his command. They are to withdraw from the city and aid Nasuada's battalions outside of the city, _he replied to Blödhgarm.

Blödhgarm acknowledged the order and withdrew from Eragon's mind.

Eragon sought Murtagh's mind, which upon probing it, instantly allowed access, _Head to the rear of the army. The undead have come. Nasuada and Orrin will require assistance. _

Murtagh replied grimly, _As you wish. _

Eragon left his mind and returned to his and was surprised to find that Arya had severed their connection. Before Eragon's concern could intensify, Saphira calmed his mind and said, _Blödhgarm_ _has also informed her of the message. She heads for the city. _

_Let us fly there. _Eragon said, his and Saphira's mind still recovering from the mental battle with Kialandí and from the abrupt and terrible fury that had swept through all them.

-x-

_A mixture of apprehension and tension had begun to entangle itself within Roran's chest. But it was always so; before every battle. He could not calm the pounding pulsations of his heart, nor drown the boisterous strides of his comrades. How he wished to be with Katrina... to hold her in comfort and assurance. But there could be no assurance until the tyrant king was vanquished. This thought was what urged Roran to go forward. There would be no peace until Galbatorix was dead. _

_Named a captain under his own regiment, Roran was at the head of the march. They were to attack after the second wave of the army. _

_Bravery in his core, and his loved ones in his heart, Roran charged. After the Kull had breached Belatona's gates, the battered wooden gateway served as an entry for the Varden. Murtagh and his dragon Thorn had descended, like great predators of the skies, and swept upon the ranks of the Empire. Even from a near distance, Roran could hear the shrilled screams of Belatona's soldiers. It unnerved him, but his legs carried him forward, his mind and heart ever depicting Katrina..._

Upon reaching the city, Roran could already perceive the dead who lay on the floor; their ashen faces and bloodied remains were scattered on the ground. Thorn emerged from the city's depths, his roars quaking the ground with tremors as he flew upward and out of the city. Roran was slightly confused at their departure, but his eyes glimpsed a shine of sapphire some distance away. He could only conclude that the Eragon and Murtagh were switching locations.

Abruptly, Roran returned his focus at the surroundings. Soldiers poured from multiple directions, the Empire insignia visible upon their armours. Roran shouted and yelled orders, his men scurrying to form lines and ranks. The strident clash of swords, spears and shields thundered in Roran's ears. Still, he swept through the lines, his hammer reaching their targets at every strike.

Roran perceived the elf, Blödhgarm beneath the castle of Belatona. He and his companion of Elven spellcasters were battling about four or five of Belatona's magicians, a fact Roran distinguished upon seeing their black cloaks. Sparks violently flew as magical spells were exchanged. Surrounded by an intense skirmish, the Elven spellcasters and the magicians had little space to fight. Close to the Elves' and the magician's fight, Roran spun and turned, his hammer crushing bones and armours as he neared the magical fight.

Suddenly, like a sound of a whip, Roran found himself on the floor as he saw the last of the Belatona's magicians obliterate from the spot. Blödhgarm had killed the magician, but dread twisted within Roran's chest:

A large black mark scarred the ground, and near one of the castle's partially destroyed windows- where Blödhgarm had killed the magician, Roran glimpsed a foot-wide crack.

-x-

Saphira swept through the city, releasing great infernos that swallowed Belatona's soldiers. The city was large and soldiers filled every corner. Bodies already began to pile on the ground. Eragon searched Blödhgarm's mind, locating him near the huge castle at the centre of the city. Somewhere below, Eragon's sensitive eyes recognized Arya, who was sprinting between the city streets, seemingly headed to the same direction as they were. Her tied tresses trailed behind her, as she gracefully and swiftly cut through Belatona's soldiers. Saphira swooped lower, in an attempt to clear the way for the Elven princess.

Suddenly, and without warning, a terrible noise pierced everyone's ears. Eragon felt the vibrations in the air, and for one second, he thought that Kialandí had reached the city and was causing the chaos. But it felt different. There was no touch of magic or sense of evil. With a sense of urgency weighing upon them, Saphira flew with great speed, her wings carrying them to the heart of the city. They had reached Belatona's castle courtyard. Eragon leapt of his saddle, landing on the ground effortlessly. A second later, Arya stepped beside him, her grim facial expression telling Eragon that she had not at all forgotten their earlier encounter with the former Elven rider.

"She will be dealt with," Arya murmured so quietly that Eragon wondered if he was mistaken. Eragon mustered a reply, but his eyes strayed to sweep over the courtyard. This was roughly where the source of the noise emanated from. Blödhgarm ran up to them, his blue fur tainted with blood and grime. Blood dripped from his fangs as he spoke, "Magicians were scattered throughout the city; and as we speak, my brethren are dealing with them. I have killed the most powerful." With a finger, the elf pointed at a black spot on the ground. It seemed as if the magician was obliterated into ashes. Eragon raised his eyebrow in question, but before Blödhgarm could reply, he was interrupted.

For the second time, the vibrations groaned throughout the city, like a huge boulder cracking. However, along with the vibrations, came a higher pitched sound; a sound which seemed to make Eragon's bones shudder.

_(Text that follows; Text © 2011 by Christopher Paolini.)_

The sound was stabbing, slicing, shivering, like metal scraping against stone. Eragon's teeth vibrated in sympathy, and he covered his ears with his hands, grimacing as he twisted around, trying to locate the source of the noise. Saphira tossed her head, and even through the din, he heard her whine in distress.

Eragon swept his gaze over the courtyard twice before he noticed a faint puff of dust rising up the wall of the keep from a foot-wide crack that had appeared beneath the blackened, partially destroyed window where Blödhgarm had killed the magician. As the squeal increased in intensity, Eragon risked lifting a hand off one ear to point at the crack.

"Look!" he shouted to Arya, who nodded in acknowledgment. He replaced his hand over his ear.

Without warning or preamble, the sound stopped.

Eragon waited for a moment, then slowly lowered his hands, for once wishing that his hearing was not quite so sensitive.

Just as he did, the crack jerked open wider-spreading until it was several feet across and raced down the wall of the keep. Like a bolt of lightning, the crack struck and shattered the keystone above the door to the building, showering the floor below with pebble-sized rocks. The whole castle groaned, and from the damaged window to the broken keystone, the front of the keep began to lean outward.

"Run!" Eragon shouted at the Varden, though the men were already scattering to either side of the courtyard, desperate to get out from under the precarious wall. Eragon took a single step forward, every muscle in his body tense as he searched for a glimpse of Roran somewhere in the throng of warriors.

At last Eragon spotted him, trapped behind the last group of men by the doorway, bellowing madly at them, his words lost in the commotion. Then the wall shifted and dropped several inches, leaning even farther away from the rest of the building, pelting Roran with rocks, knocking him off balance and forcing him to stumble backward under the overhang of the doorway.

As Roran straightened from a crouch, his eyes met Eragon's, and in his gaze, Eragon saw a flash of fear and helplessness, quickly followed by resignation, as if Roran knew that, no matter how fast he ran, he could not possibly reach safety in time.

A wry smile touched Roran's lips.

And the wall fell.

(Text © 2011 by Christopher Paolini.)

-x-

Thorn approached the rear of the army, his ruby scales glinting in the glare of the sunlight. Below, Murtagh discerned the undead soldiers, and the struggling Varden army to overcome them. _It seems that Galbatorix has indeed stayed true to his word, _Murtagh commented, _this battle will be arduous. _

Thorn swept low, releasing jets of fire at the undead. In the throng of bodies, Murtagh glimpsed Nasuada. Her ring of guards had scattered and she joined the disarray of combat. He was momentarily distracted by her fighting, as she spun and twisted, her sword burying itself in countless of bodies. Suddenly, a piercing sound scraped over Murtagh's ears. He was unable to constrain his yell and he covered his ears. Thorn, was also affected, shaking his head at the high wailing sound. In the midst of their unsettlement, Murtagh distinguished that they were the only ones affected. The soldiers below resumed their combat, seemingly unaware of the shrill sound.

A few more seconds passed before Murtagh realized that the sound was reverberating in their mind. He resisted the presence that attempted to enter his mind, casting all known defences as his mental guard. Suddenly, the presence spoke to him_, Do not resist... _

The presence sent its assurance and Murtagh lowered his barriers ever so slowly. _Reveal yourself!_

The mental tendril blossomed into a mental depiction. Utter shock jolted Murtagh and Thorn that the dragon even strayed from his flight. In their minds, a ghost of the past presented themselves. Murtagh had seen her in some of the paintings back in Uru'baen. He had also read about her in numerous scrolls:

Kialandí of the Forsworn, seemed alive and well. And she was in his mind.

In awe and surprise, Murtagh could only pause in thought and wonder as he gazed upon a woman whom many thought dead. He had read in scrolls that she was an elf, but her appearance had altered somewhat significantly. Maroon eyes stared back at him, an aspect that made her unique... and remarkably feared. Maroon eyes signified spirits resided within her; she was a Shade! But her face had remained unmarred by any wounds or infliction that previous Shades had. Her hair was not also dyed red, nor her lips thinned, nor her complexion deadly pale. Apart from the strange and unnerving maroon eyes, the elf's structure was defined; she was beautiful. Straight black hair framed her angular face, and her expression was both terrifying and harsh.

Unable to stop himself, Murtagh said, _Kialandí of the Forsworn..._

The presence responded and the mental depiction moved as if she were speaking to them face to face. _So you know who I am..._ she spoke, her voice echoing in Murtagh and Thorn's minds, _Galbatorix had refrained the information about my existence? _There was a tone of mockery in her voice, as if she held herself equally powerful than the tyrant king. _You are under his command; therefore you are partly an ally. _

Confused by her statement, Murtagh questioned, _Do you not serve Galbatorix the same as I? _

_That, _she replied, the mental illustration fading from Murtagh's mind, _will be answered in due time. _

Perplexed, Murtagh sought Thorn's opinion. His dragon spoke, _What do you need of us? Where are you? _

_Questions, questions... _Kialandí murmured, _Tomorrow at dawn, fly to the west of Leona Lake. There, I may provide answers you seek. Keep this knowledge to yourselves if you still wish to seek my counsel. _

Murtagh felt her presence slipping, ready to disappear. He shouted, _Wait! _

Kialandí paused. _Why do you only show yourself now? _

A lengthened pause. Murtagh wondered if she would ever answer when half a minute passed by. Then, _I have been awakened. _

-x-

Everything that occurred next happened in a rapid blur. As the wall collapsed, Eragon raised his hand, his mind in a haze as he uttered spells that seemed to escape his lips out of their own accord. His Gedwey Ignasia burned as it never had before. Only connected to Saphira and with no time to tap into Aren, Eragon had no choice but to summon whatever strength he had left within him.

The spell completed just as the first of the wall's debris touched Roran's forehead. His strength left him abruptly, and Eragon felt his knees give way. As his eyesight blurred, he glimpsed a jet of blue shoot forward, seeking Roran. On his knees, Eragon felt the last of his strength drain from him as the blue magic enveloped Roran like an embrace. Seemingly distances away, Eragon heard Saphira's roar as the wall continued to collapse.

All the voices around him rose to a cacophony as Eragon let himself fall forward. The last distinct word he heard was uttered in frustration, yet also concern, _"Fool!"_

Even cursing- Eragon thought with humour- that she sounded absolutely beautiful.

-x-

As soon as Kialandí faded from his mind, Murtagh and Thorn were left speechless. They had just conversed with a being, and a former Dragon Rider at that, whom everyone thought was dead. Murtagh felt the remnants of his surprise linger in his mind, and he doubted that they would ever take their leave. And that Galbatorix did not know of her existence fuelled a fire within Murtagh's chest. With the elf's help, he could leave Galbatorix' service... thoughts whirled in Murtagh's mind, his hope burgeoning with every desired deliberation.

A being as ancient as Galbatorix...a Rider of the old, could help them. _We do not yet know where her alliance lies. _Thorn interrupted Murtagh's racing thoughts.

Abruptly, the Red Rider frowned; _she claimed to be an ally... or "partly an ally" as I remember it. _

_Yes, she did, _Thorn confirmed, _It could mean many things. We will meet her in the spoken location. We could hope..._

_But expect the worse? _Murtagh finished, a humourless smirk forming his lips.

_We should converse about today's happenings when we are alone and none may eavesdrop upon our thoughts, _Thorn stated, descending upon the undead, his mighty claws piercing flesh and breaking bones.

Murtagh agreed and he returned to the task at hand. Like always, the duty he has been given presented themselves in his head. He sighed as he remembered that he needed to perform a task he was dreading to fulfil. But oaths were unbreakable and once ordered, he needed to carry them out. Locating one with his mind, Murtagh sent Thorn the directions.

In less than a minute, Murtagh found one of the Elven spellcasters fighting alongside the Varden. He had midnight black hair that reached his shoulders and it spun with him as he twisted, using two thin elfin swords to cut and slice through the undead's ranks. The elf, like the rest of his brethren, had a perfectly structured face, his features unmistakable amongst the human soldiers. Despising their task, but not prolonging the moment any longer, Murtagh began to form a spell that would immediately strike down the spellcaster and hinder his mind useless to send any stress calls; lest the rest of his brethren respond to it and sees Murtagh's act of betrayal.

Mind insensitive, Murtagh leapt from his saddle as his spell completed. Za'roc glinting in the sunlight, Murtagh landed a few metres away from the dark-haired spellcaster who had taken the affliction notably. He stumbled slightly, the elf unaware of where the force had come from. Still, he swung at his opponents, blood oozing from the mysterious wounds that had suddenly appeared there. As Murtagh approached, the elf seemed to stiffen and he spun around, with the speed of his kind, and struck Murtagh. His two elfin swords came down on either side and Murtagh ducked, his agility not as swift as the elves, but manageable.

The elf's expression was one of antagonism and hostility, betrayal clear in his eyes. He spoke in Elvish, their meaning escaping Murtagh, but he could guess that they were curses. Yet a countless more to add to the expletives collection spat at him in the past few years. A few minutes passed by, and Murtagh was remarkably impressed and in awe of the elf's perseverance and capability, despite his wounds. But as time exhausted the elf's wounds, he faltered, and Murtagh took advantage. Ending the elf's suffering, Murtagh brought Za'roc across the elf's chest, slashing a deep and fatal cut. The dark-haired elf fell.

Murtagh spun around, wildly searching for any Varden that had just perceived and or was aware of the fight. There were none. Soldiers around him ceaselessly battled for their own lives, their fear palpable in the chaotic air.

Thorn crashed through a throng of undead soldiers and leant on one side, as Murtagh climbed onto the saddle. _I have located another spellcaster. _Thorn informed as Murtagh urged him to the location.

Thus, the red rider and red dragon carried out their inevitable task; guilt heavy within their minds, but the remembrance of absolute pain of not fulfilling their duties compelled them to resume their task.

-x-

Roran panted, his breath escaping him too much and too quickly. A blue haze had enveloped him before the wall could collapse on top of him. A sense of confusion filled him as he found himself a safe distance away from the debris. His knees had given way, and he found his arms leaning on the ground for support. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm the boisterous beating of his heart. As soon as a modicum of strength and serenity entered his body, only then did Roran look up.

He found himself staring at a small mountain of debris; half of the foundation of Belatona's castle lay in ruins. Then a circle of people mostly consisted of Elven spellcasters and the beautiful elf, Arya, gathered around a body. Two of the Elven spellcasters separated from the circle and headed towards him. A female and male elf, both with midnight black hair helped him stand up. The female elf spoke lightly, the Elven cadence weaved in her tone, "Are you hurt?"

Roran tried to speak, but the dust from the debris had clogged his throat. He coughed and shook his head. Holding his hammer limply, Roran indicated towards the group of Elven spellcasters that were now lifting a body off the ground.

"Your cousin," the female elf answered his unspoken question. Instantly, Roran's legs carried him forward. Guilt that he had caused Eragon pain weighed heavy in his heart. Upon reaching them, Roran heard Arya speak, "Lyari, Ithurin, help me tie him to Saphira. I shall take him to the herbalist Angela."

Two male elves lifted Eragon onto Saphira's back, whom appeared weary and exhausted. His voice grated, Roran asked, "Will he be alright?"

Arya looked at him as the two elves finished securing Eragon on the saddle, and she replied, "Yes, but he severely depleted his strength. Magic will not wake him for the meantime as he is in a state akin to coma, but it is only momentary and he will wake in a few hours."

Roran nodded, gratitude swelling within him as he gazed upon his cousin. He owed Eragon. Much goodwill has Eragon shown him, and Roran promised that if a day comes and Eragon should ask him of something, he will not deny him.

-x-

"Oh dear, oh dear," Angela muttered as Saphira landed infront of her tent, her eyes resting on Eragon's motionless form. Arya, who had barely fitted into the saddle, began to untie the straps holding Eragon.

"What had the boy done now?" Angela asked, a tone of reprimand entering her voice, as she went to help Arya unfasten the saddle's bands.

"The fool overused magic." Arya stated, her facial expression seemingly trying too hard to remain neutral. However, her abrupt and stiff movements suggested otherwise. She was agitated; therefore indicating concern.

"Ah, nothing like a refreshing concoction would wake him up," Angela murmured, "Does the battle require his presence?"

Arya shook her head, "I'm sure the Varden can cope, especially with Murtagh, but his presence would still be helpful. The Varden face a long and arduous battle ahead of them. A considerable number of Galbatorix' undead soldiers are hacking away at the army as we speak."

Angela grimaced, "Very well. I shall prepare a potion that will stir him to awaken in the next hour or so." Arya nodded, her erratic movements still noticeable as she shifted next to Eragon. Angela had to be blind not to detect the poorly hidden concern etched upon the elf's features.

Saphira growled softly, her anxiety clear and obvious. "He will be fine, Saphira," the herbalist assured the sapphire dragon, "Arya, here, carry him to my tent," Angela had succeeded in unfastening the secure knots and Arya had Eragon's arm draped over her shoulder. She supported most of his weight, her hand on his waist.

_I shall wait here... I am in much need of a rest... _Saphira's said drowsily, broadcasting her thoughts to both women. Arya acknowledged with the tilt of her head and then followed Angela into the tent.

The herbalist's tent was filled with many strange herbs and potions and in the corner of the considerably spacious tent was a pallet, supported with a wooden table. Angela cleared the pallet and indicated Arya to lay Eragon on it.

Angela muttered to herself as she looked upon her shelves, looking for ingredients for a refreshing concoction. "It will wake him up quicker than usual." She busied herself, moving fro and to shelves; grabbing strange coloured liquids and herbs and putting them in a large glass. She stirred the forming potion as she moved around the tent. Arya herself was pacing up and down next to Eragon's pallet. She muttered under her breath, "Fool."

Angela, whom Arya thought was too busy preoccupied on the concoction turned around and gave Arya a fleeting mischievous grin. Its meaning could be deciphered by Arya, but she did not dwell much upon it. After what seemed like an hour, Angela held the finished drink in her hand. "Help him up," the herbalist said.

Arya, who never left Eragon's side, immediately followed the herbalist's order. The light blue liquid seeped into Eragon's lips and Arya held him up until the glass was finally emptied. Carefully, she laid him back down. "He should wake up in an hour or two," Angela said.

"Thank you," Arya murmured, and then gazed upon Eragon with a strange expression.

Angela tilted her head, attempting to hide the smile that threatened to form her lips. To see the elf at such a conflicted state, when the answers seemed to present themselves infront of her- seemed very humorous to the herbalist.

Arya looked from Eragon and at her, and asked, "Angela, is it possible to die, then resurrect through means of... becoming a Shade?"

Angela's smile faded, replaced by an aged expression; something which seemed to reflect her true age for the first time since Arya had been around her.

"Why do you ask?" Angela's features were neutral, but her voice was tinted with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.

Arya quickly deliberated about what to say next. Angela had neither confirmed herself as a friend or foe, but for the countless times she had helped the Varden and especially in taking care of Eragon when he was injured at the battle of Farthen Dur, had earned Arya's trust.

"Because I believe it's possible," said Arya, not even sounding as if she believed herself. Angela leant back on a table, her expression reflective. Patience Arya had, but the minutes that passed by seemed to lengthen at each second. She remained motionless, fearing that Angela would never answer.

A few more seconds passed before the herbalist looked at her. Arya saw the answer in her eyes, however fleeting it may have been there. She gasped, "It's possible?"

Angela sat down on a chair, her expression solemn, "Why do you say you believe it's possible?"

Arya faltered slightly.

Angela almost smiled, "It would do no good if we both lie to each other. You tell me what you have seen and I will tell you what I know."

Arya looked at the herbalist and for the first time, she saw that her usually cheerful demeanour transformed into something graver, more sombre, as if she were about to tell an unfortunate tale.

Then, Arya realized that she had never answered Angela's question. She shook her head, "Yes, I said I believe it's possible because..." Arya inhaled deeply, "Because not an hour ago, I saw _her."_

Angela remained unmoving, seeing pain cloud the elf's eyes. Sympathy welled within Angela, but she said nothing.

Arya looked away, her eyes still misted with pain. Remembering Kialandí's maroon eyes, an image of Oromis and Glaedr flashed across her mind. Unfathomable grief tore through her and Arya had to clench her fist in order to constrain her unruly emotions. Her grief intensified when she recalled her mother, Queen Islanzadi, coming from the Battle of Illirea. She had been weeping.

_Arya vividly remembered her mother, sitting upon her bedside and taking her hand. She looked grave, but her eyes had dried._

_Strong-willed and motherly she appeared as she gazed upon her, and Arya remembered her uttering the next few words that compelled and finalized her decision to take the role as the Elven ambassador. Her voice as clear as an unveiled night, Islanzadi said, "Your father... he has been slain."_

_In that moment, in that hour, Arya's decision- to serve her people and the Varden in order to bring down the tyrant king- became adamant. She had remained motionless, her body betraying nothing until her eyes revealed her emotions. Tears, crystal clear, flowed out of her accord. Islanzadi resumed speaking, her voice cracking under the weight of their combined emotions, "He was slain... by one of our own; Kialandí." Her mother's tone turned bitter, but her grief was as deep and as profound as Arya's. Then they wept, wept as the Elves, filled with profound grief and for the loss of their loved one. They wept until night gave way to day. _

_The days that followed, Islanzadi became Queen of the Elves and was too much busy with the affairs of war and the Forsworn that she had little time for Arya. Arya then visited Oromis, whom she regarded almost like a father. But a few months later, Kialandí and Formora had captured and tortured the rider and Glaedr, and it only served to fuel Arya's resentment towards the Forsworn, especially Kialandí. She vowed to deliver vengeance, to personally see to Kialandí's death. But the opportunity never arrived. Nevertheless, Arya trained, pushing herself harder than all of the elves at her age, and she excelled. She found herself moving swordsmanship levels, against elves decades older than her. Arya never paused nor hesitated to attack, imagining her sword practises a reality._

_Then one day, a messenger arrived in Du Weldenvarden, bearing good tidings. Kialandí had been slain; whether by the sword or overuse of magic, but the reason of her death was never learned._

_Now, many decades after hearing of her supposed death, Arya's encounter with Kialandí served too much as a reminder of the past. The fury that rose upon seeing Kialandí's face both shocked and surprised Arya, but it should not have. Now, the news of her existence stirred something within Arya, a side which sought to deliver that long vowed retribution..._

Arya finally stirred. She had been tense, her body rigid and unyielding. She exhaled slowly and looked at Angela, whom had remained motionless in her seat during Arya's long and reflective thoughts.

"I saw Kialandí," Arya murmured, "She was alive... but was not so."

Now Angela moved ever so slightly, reacting to Arya's news. "Her complexion, her nose, her lips... they were the same as before. Her ears and her facial structure... they were the same as before," Arya paused, her eyes meeting Angela's, "But her eyes, they were different. They were a Shade's eyes; maroon. Glaring and piercing." Arya glanced at Eragon's sleeping and still form, "She attacked Eragon's mind, and now I am only able to remember that her mind was not like a Shade's. They were lucid and clear. There had been so sign of spirits residing within her, but her mind was tightly guarded."

Arya looked back at Angela, "But she is alive. I thought she had been slain a long time ago, but... she is alive."

Now it was Angela's turn to sigh. It was deep and heavy, as if she carried a burden. "A mortal, human, dwarf or any other living creature that has a measurably short lifespan cannot be resurrected," Angela paused, "However, an immortal, like an elf; with the proper yet extremely difficult means, can be."

Confusion filled Arya, but she did not voice it. She listened.

"Because of their enhanced abilities; their strength, their long lifespan and their inexorable bond with the ancient creatures, the dragons, elves have a strong capability to be able to transform. Their body can take pain that would normally and instantly kill a mortal. They are able to _endure _prolonged agony. Their body is able to _withstand_. Now, even in death, their bodies take longer to decompose. Many more decades than a mortal. Now, through the use of spirits, they can be resurrected."

Arya seemed to have her breath caught. Numerous thoughts flashed across her mind. If that was plausible indeed, then endless possibilities presented themselves.

Questions escaped Arya's lips before she could stop them, "How can anyone not know of this? If it is possible, then how come we do not resurrect those who have fallen?" Names flew in rapid succession in Arya's mind, _Evandar, Oromis, Glenwing... Faolin. _Faolin's name struck her like a crashing boulder. Was it possible to be suffocated in such a large room? Before Arya's mind could form any more thoughts, Angela spoke.

"You did not see what became of Kialandí?" She raised a brow.

Arya's thoughts came to an abrupt end. "They have to become Shades?" Hope in any resurrection of her loved ones immediately died within Arya. She would rather have them remain dead than have evil and cursed spirits reside in their bodies. Spirits would become masters of their body and they would have no control of what they did.

"Although a modicum of them- this would depend on how strong the host body is, and how great their resistence is to the spirits- would still reside in their minds. However, the spirits may dominate most of it. They would no longer be the same person," Angela said quietly.

Arya knew the process of becoming a Shade, but what she did not understand however, was how Kialandí was able to remain in her former appearance. She appeared more elf than Shade. She voiced her opinion to Angela.

The herbalist shook her head, "I can only speculate that Kialandí was a former Dragon Rider. Perhaps it affects them differently than anyone else? I believe she has greater resistance. Perhaps there is more of her essence than the spirits; she is able to overcome them."

Arya sighed, "But how was anyone able to find her? And for that matter, can even think to make her into a Shade?'

"That, I do not know the answer of," replied Angela gravely.

Arya nodded ever so slightly. The events that had transpired immediately made her feel weary and exhausted. Too much had happened, too much had she gleaned in just a day. Her mind was in a tumult; her fury had subsided, but nevertheless still lingered within her. An elf's emotion was not as easily as discarded and forgotten as a mortal's.

Suddenly, Angela clapped her hands, her cheerful demeanour returning to her features. "Anyway, I'm off to find Solembum. I need to talk to him about some matters. Perhaps he may know more about what we have discussed." Her exterior countenance, however cheerful she may have seemed; Arya discerned the deep apprehension in the herbalist's eyes.

"Thank you, Angela," said Arya. The meaning was rooted deep in the words, and even Arya felt the impact of them affect Angela. The herbalist nodded in acknowledgement. She indicated to Eragon with her head, "We passed the time without notice. He should wake up soon."

Arya gave a nod as Angela left the tent. A few minutes passed before Arya found her eyes lingering on Eragon's sleeping form. He was foolish to deplete his strength so suddenly. Despite the newly learnt information and from what had occurred earlier in the day, Arya, by their own accord, felt her lips form into a small smile. _But what a brave fool._

-x-

Weary of the long battle, Murtagh felt his strength waning as he climbed onto the saddle. He was successful in executing three of the Elven spellcasters; they were all males. But that was what all he could accomplish. They were very formidable opponents, and if not for the aid of a Dragon's strength, Murtagh might have perished. Sweat beaded his forehead, his hair matted and he felt his arms grow leaden. The sky had considerably darkened, the sun was disappearing into the horizon and the air seemed colder.

Thorn flew into the coolness of the clouds, his roar echoing throughout the battlefield below. The dragon had barely any injuries, but his strength was also diminishing. A great toll it had taken from him when he aided Murtagh in eliminating the three Elven spellcasters. For the first time in battle or any fight, Murtagh felt human again. The cold seeped into his bones, and he shuddered with every breath. Exhaustion was something he had never experienced when he had possessed his own collection of Eldunarya. Now, the fatigue weighed down on him with great force, seemingly squeezing the breath from his lungs. He looked below.

Nearly half of the undead army remained. But the Varden seemed to have suffered more casualties; bodies with the Varden's insignia on their armours were scattered throughout the battlefield. Murtagh gazed upon them with a neutral expression. They had died with honour... something he will never have, even in death.

He spoke to Thorn, _This battle will last the night. _

_Let us hope we can last till then, _Thorn replied faintly.

Suddenly, a mental tendril probed Murtagh's consciousness and he flinched at the contact. He recoiled and prepared to attack, but the strange presence spoke, _I am Blödhgarm, the lead elf of the Elven spellcasters._

Murtagh instantly refrained from being hostile. He allowed his mind to open and he was surprised to open to a presence with a strange mental aura. A depiction of creature with glossy blue fur, yellow eyes and fangs appeared in his mind. He recalled seeing one of them before, the strange elf who had fashioned his appearance to the likes of a wolf. He was the leader of the Elven spellcasters, and after just having slain three of his brethren and conversing with him, made Murtagh feel the slightest of guilt. He asked impassively, _what news do you bring? _

_Eragon Shadeslayer has been taken from battle; he exhausted his strength in rescuing his cousin, _said Blödhgarm with the same emotionless tone Murtagh had used, _He will return to battle once he has been awakened._

_Thank you for informing me, _Murtagh acknowledged the news with minimal surprise. It was something Eragon would do; foolish but noteworthy.

_How fare you and your dragon with the Varden in southern Belatona?_ asked the elf.

_It is a strenuous battle, _Murtagh replied honestly, _many of the undead still stands, while the Varden has greatly diminished in numbers. I suggest, if the Varden has conquered most of Belatona, that you send more force here. _

Blödhgarm hesitated, _Fighting is also heavy here. We have not succeeded in dominating most of the city. It seems that Galbatorix had replenished their numbers. _

Murtagh, for some unknown reason, felt apprehension for the Varden. They had come in great number, but that number has more or less reduced significantly. Murtagh murmured, _Then, we all hope for the best. _

-x-

Nasuada impaled the soldier and she reeled expertly as another one came from behind. They were endless... forever flowing from all directions. She yelled as she swung her blade and brought it down to slash across a soldier's chest. Blistering pain battered her arms and legs, weakening her. The ever present maniacal and frenzied laughter filled the air like a swarm of buzzing bees. Nasuada flinched as she saw one of the Varden soldiers hack the wild creature into pieces while it seemed amused by the sight of its own innards. The sight sickened her. Momentarily distracted, a sharp pain jolted her from her spot as blood seeped from a gash in her left arm. The undead soldier laughed. Instantly, she was forced to the side by one of her Nighthawks as he parried another oncoming blow, as Nasuada held her injured hand to her chest. Her protective wards were diminished.

Then another undead soldier attacked. She twirled her blade and sliced off its arm. It laughed, whether it enjoyed the agony or simply at nothing, Nasuada did not know. Swiftly, she plunged her sword into the undead's chest and its laughter gurgled as blood filled its mouth. It dropped on the floor. She spun around and met another. She killed one, two, then three. They seemed infinite. Strength as well as hope was severely draining from Nasuada. Endless bodies of the Varden soldiers piled on the ground.

Panting, Nasuada stepped back slightly and let her guards rush in her aid as more swarmed her. Jörmundur, whose right arm was also bleeding from a cut, pulled her behind him. "Nasuada, ride your horse. Retreat behind Trianna. She will protect you." She would have stayed and argued, but Nasuada had no breath left to speak. She was swept away by a few of her Nighthawks into safety.

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, the sound of a strange horn sonorously rang throughout the battlefield. It was a sound which Nasuada had never heard before. Around her, some of the Varden looked around in confusion. Jörmundur gave her a questioning glance. Nasuada shook her head in answer.

From over the west, in a horizon past some knolls, appeared a man. But it was not so; he was shorter than a man, but Nasuada could perceive it was not a dwarf, for they were stockier, and the man who stood on top of the knoll had a more compact stature. Then the man's hand moved, he held a horn and blew into it. The sound reached them faster, and the man looked behind him. A distinct line formed behind the man; there were more of them.

Suddenly, one of the female Elven spellcasters moved beside Nasuada. She looked at the female elf and asked, her voice dry, "What is it?"

The female elf squinted, her eyes searching the distance. Surprise leaked into her features, and her eyes widened.

She breathed, "I do not believe it," She glanced at Nasuada's confused countenance, and the elf said with a tinge of wonder in her tone, "The Werecats have come."

* * *

Author's Note:

_Dun dun dun! Yes, yes, I know. This chapter has so much stuff, that it should have been divided into two, but I like the chapters long. So like, I said in my earlier A/N's that I'm trying to relate all the released Inheritance excerpts. I'm doing okay so far, no? Haha. And I've also realized that this may be the first time I have included all of my main character's POV, apart from Saphira. _

_Anyway, please leave a review or comment. It would be much appreciated. Next update will come along soon!_

**Thanks to:**

Restrained Freedom, Simply Supreme, Daughter of King Orrin, XxWeixX, adrine r.227, Forcystus and KyuuinShinkei! You guys are awesome ! Thanks for the reviews. And thanks to: SabreDae, only i would know and MyHeadinTheClouds!

_Your support is much appreciated. Thanks._

-CJ


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 **

_*Emerges fro__m a dark cave, looking apprehensive and fearful* I'm sorry for the late update. Was just enjoying my summer holidays. _

_But anyhoo, I edited my rough draft written about 2 weeks ago, and here it is. Hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the reviews and new readers!  
_

* * *

It was white. An endless void of pure and perfect white: it was rapture. A sense of warmth buried itself in Eragon's chest as he contently wandered the infinite nothing. He was a minute entity compared to the vastness of what he walked in. There was no waking dream he often experienced when slumber took him. There was no time. No sense of rush nor idleness. In the confines of his mind, there was silence. Is this what it felt like to momentarily fall into the void? Eragon recalled the first time he had fallen into such place. During his torture, he had fallen in and out of a state similar to this. But those had been painful and dark.

The memories of his torture had been firmly locked away: secured behind mental safeguards. But as he walked in the endless void, the remembrance of it surged back into Eragon with full force. The infinite whiteness abruptly disappeared, replaced by darkness. Grey began to take form, colouring his surroundings with enclosing walls. There was no space now. No light.

Panic and a sense of alarm gripped Eragon. His wrists were restrained by rusty shackles. Near hyperventilation, Eragon endeavoured to calm himself by deeply inhaling and exhaling. But his attempts were for naught. There was a squealing sound; the door infront of him slowly swinging open. The peace that had cocooned itself in Eragon's chest dissipated. Only intense apprehension and spiking terror filled him. There was no air. Eragon's eyes remain firmly locked on the door, dreaded at what he'd see. A sense of madness filled him. The Twins. They had tortured him; used painful and excruciating means to torment. His gaze fell on his body. There were endless bruises, lashes and cuts. So much blood.

The door was now open. But no one stood in the doorway. It was utter darkness beyond. Eragon opened his mouth but no words came out. The panic that had seized him earlier now constricted any movement. The safeguards around his pain-filled memories were deteriorating. Sooner or later, they would collapse and completely overwhelm him. He didn't know if he could handle it.

Eragon slowly looked up. Expecting to see the Twins or even Galbatorix himself, he braced himself for the worse. What he saw surprised him. Emerald eyes met his. All the panic, fear and anxiety rushed out of him at once. His body seemed to slump with the relief. Arya rushed to his side, holding him close.

Eragon felt his eyesight failing him. Sleep beckoned. Peace beckoned. But Arya's voice, far stronger than any summon, captured his attention, _"Wake Eragon..." _

Managing to decipher the words after a few seconds, Eragon- exerting all his efforts- looked up. Arya's beautiful face was so close. For the second time, he saw her emerald eyes. An intense force gripped him as they looked into his. She repeated her words, smooth and gentle, _"Wake up..." _

_Wake up._

Eragon stirred. He felt Saphira hum in the back of his mind, her thoughts were vague. She was just beginning to stir. _Saphira, _Eragon spoke, filling his partner's mind with his presence. The dragon came fully awake and she merged with him. She hummed in contentment as they revelled in each other's presence. _I'm sorry to cause you any worry, _said Eragon.

Saphira merely embraced his presence tighter, _You are well and alive, so it's all that matters... _She paused, _But never do anything like that without having me around. You could've died. _

Eragon acknowledged the fact. Then simply, he stated; _he is my cousin._

Saphira sighed softly, _Yes, I understand. But you are more important to me than he is. _

Eragon comforted her dragon and she in return, _I know, but I refuse to let any more harm come into my family. _

Saphira nodded and accepted his statement. Then she said firmly, _But remember, _you _come first before them._ Eragon silently conceded to her avowal.

Eragon felt her rise from her sleeping position and stretch. _Now, we must return to the battlefield, _said Saphira, a trace of enthusiasm in her tone.

_Very well, I will be out soon. _

Strength returning to his body, Eragon moved. He felt aches in joints of his muscles. Sensations bombarded him instantly. Smell; herbs and spices hit him, their strong fragrant scents making his head throb. Taste; sweet and cold liquid lingered in his tongue; a cool sensation that seemed to refresh him. Sound; the rustle of clothes, a whisper of movement. Touch; pressure was applied on his left arm, gripping it with undeniable strength. Sight; Eragon opened his eyes and for the third time, he found himself looking into emerald orbs. They were big and bright- relentless and unwavering.

"You are awake," Arya breathed, her voice leaving her in a rush. Her hair, which had been firmly tied back during the battle, had become loose. Black tresses stuck to her forehead and a few shades of grime were smudged on her neck and face; the result of her exertion in battle. Her countenance, which was always cold and neutral, seemed to have transformed. Worry suffused into her features- an expression Eragon had only rarely saw her wear.

Mustering his strength and thoughts, Eragon blinked. Chasing away the remnants of his waking nightmare, Eragon locked them in the confines of his mind. Recollections of his torture were buried deep in his core. He feared someday that his safeguards would break and he would be overwhelmed. But that day had yet to arrive; he shall come face to face with. And he would welcome it like a friend and rid of it like an enemy.

Eragon forced himself to move. He felt slightly stiff, his back and muscles clicking as he willed himself to sit up. Arya let him, her hands seemed forced by her side as she watched him swing his legs over the pallet. Rubbing the back of his neck, Eragon looked at her, a sort of sheepish expression etched on his features. He gestured with his free hand, "Aren't you going to scold me for overusing magic?"

Surprise swept over Arya's features and she seemed to tilt her head, "I was," She paused, "But..." Arya had to force herself not to bite her lip. She did have an admonishment planned in her head. But as soon as Eragon had awakened, the words had simply slipped from her mind. However, she was able to cling onto one statement of her planned reprimand, "That was a very foolish thing to do."

Eragon began to speak, but Arya cut him off, "But also brave. Chastising you on saving your cousin would do no good. You acted on rash impulse, yes, but you are alive. That's what matters at the moment."

Eragon's opened mouth closed. He nodded. "Well, for what it's worth, I apologize for my action."

Arya smiled faintly.

Then she straightened; her eyes seemingly distant. Eragon knew she was mentally conversing with one of the Elven spellcasters. Eragon fully stood, gripping Brisingr's pommel. Surprise flashed through Arya's eyes.

Alarmed, he asked, "What is it?"

"The Werecats have come."

-x-

The Werecats swept through like a storm-driven hurricane, claws, and swords slashing through the ranks of the undead. When the first fearful Varden acknowledged that the Werecats have aided them, they regained their spirits and resumed fighting.

Bolstered by the favour of alliance, some the Varden cheered; their determination and hope spreading throughout the army like a wildfire. Nasuada stood at the centre of the chaos, stunned by the unexpected aid. Growls ripped through the air; the Werecats' prowess an impressive display of ferocity and agility. In close vicinity of them, Nasusda discerned that some were garbed in cream-coloured armour, armed with small swords or daggers. However, some simply looked feral and wild- no clothing adorned their bodies, nor weapons held; they simply fought.

In minutes, with the Werecats' help, the Varden had the upperhand. However, still remaining in their maniacal state, the Undead ceaselessly laughed, blatantly not unsettled by the turn of events.

Then, Jormundur was at Nasuada's side, shouting orders, his sword raised up high. Stirred by the activity around her, Nasuada turned her attention to her adversaries. The elf who had been at Nasuada's side moved infront of her as a few of the Soldiers Who Feel No Pain rose from the ground yet again. The spellcaster moved with mesmerizing fluidity, her swords slicing through the soldiers. Nasuada's Nighthawks moved with her as she also fought. But the combat had become evidently easier, with the Werecats still sweeping through the Empire's ranks.

A dragon's roar echoed through the land, and Nasuada looked up to see Thorn high in the clouds. Alarm and dread suddenly filled her as the Werecats around her all growled in unison. "They are allies!" She shouted, silently pleading that the red dragon and Rider would not be struck down. Her fears burgeoned as Thorn seemed to waver in his flight. Nasuada shouted for Jormundur, her voice leaving her in a rush, "Tell them to cease their attack on the red rider!"

Jormundur nodded and stirred his horse as he galloped away. Nasuada turned to the female elven spellcaster, "Tell them to stop!" she demanded. The elf spun away, still locked in combat, but through the din, Nasuada heard her say, "They are not listening."

As Nasuada was pulled behind defensive ranks yet again, Thorn roared louder and Nasuada looked up just in time to see the ruby-coloured dragon vigorously shake its head sideways. Suddenly, Murtagh's voice rushed into her head, _They are not be convinced…we cannot stay: for if they continue to attack us-we will retaliate. _

_Then fly, _replied Nasuada, _Return when the battle has concluded. _

Before Murtagh could terminate their link, he softly added, _Take care. _

**-x-**

Soaring through the skies, Saphira roared, announcing her presence. The fighting below had gradually come to an end, with the last of the Varden soldiers scurrying to finish off their adversaries. The Werecats, ferocious and feral, ripped the flesh from their enemies, their prowess remarkable.

Slightly giving his waist a squeeze, Arya stated mentally, _Eragon. _A sense of alarm encompassed her voice.

Reacting to it, Eragon stiffened, _What is it?_

_Blodhgarm requires me, _said Arya, _we have lost three of the Elven spellcasters._

Sadness swept over Eragon, _Ah._

Arya echoed his grief, but Eragon felt her supress it before she spoke again, _You go to Nasuada, while I rejoin my brethren. _

_Very well, _said Eragon. There were a few minutes of silence before Saphira began to descend. As the wind whipped around them, Eragon felt the cold bite through his flesh. So much blood, so much loss. A gradual sense of hopelessness began to creep on him, followed by an overwhelming surge of protectiveness. Events of late had made him realize how everything could be lost in a matter of minutes.

His mind inadvertently illustrated Arya's face. It seemed as if a hot iron block dropped on his chest. Breathing restricted, Eragon involuntarily brushed against Arya's hand as Saphira landed on the blood-stained ground. Arms pulling back, Eragon felt Arya's light presence leap off the saddle.

On the ground, she gave Eragon an almost puzzled look. It was transient, and her eyes searched his, endeavouring to understand the action. No words passed between them, until Arya's impassive façade swept over her features. Her eyes, however, still held the same searching look. She seemed as if she was going to say something, but stopped herself.

Saphira preparing to take flight, Eragon said softly, "Condolences to your brethren."

Arya acknowledged with a tilt of her head, sadness breaking through her inexpressive countenance. "It is unfortunate; war takes many people, but their deaths will not be in vain," she said quietly.

"I wish I could stay, but my presence is greatly required elsewhere," said Eragon regretfully.

Arya nodded, preparing to take her own leave. Eragon seemed very reluctant to leave her, but with great effort, he nodded back. "Farewell, _Shadeslayer,_" he smiled slightly.

Arya gave him a strange look, one that can only discerned as puzzlement. Then with her great wings, Saphira shot off to the sky. Arya became no more than a mere dot when they reached the cool surroundings of the clouds.

In the air, Saphira asked with slight amusement, _Shadeslayer?_

**-x-**

Kialandi, former Dragon Rider and one of the Forsworn, stood upon a hill as she watched the carnage and slaughter upon the horizon. She had been observing for quite some time and was surprised when she saw the Werecats arrive in aid of the Varden. Such show of alliance was unheard of. Werecats rarely came in aid of anyone; they preferred to seclude themselves deep beyond anyone's reach. Not even Galbatorix could persuade them to his side.

The sun had disappeared from the skies and behind the horizon. Dimmed light was cast across the land, the screams and cries of soldiers filling the twilight air. The fighting was fierce, something Kialandi would have revelled to be a part of. But the blue Rider, Eragon and his dragon Saphira, had proved to be more formidable than she expected.

She had only come to existence three nights ago and her full strength had not yet returned. She had been extremely compelled to attack the Rider and the urge had passed after she had done so. Kialandi could only conclude that remnants of her past oath to Galbatorix had clung onto her psyche even after death. But Kialandi knew the oath- seemingly altered to a perplexing desire to kill the Rider, was not strong and with enough force, she could break it.

But she had not the strength to do so yet. After being resurrected by three and ten magicians, she had been filled with the impulse of seeking the rider and attacking him. It began as a small compulsion that grew to an almost unbearable inclination. She considered herself lucky to have found him in battle, for seeking him under fortified and securer protection would have proved arduous. Without her full strength and the nagging desire to eliminate the Rider, it would have driven her beyond agitation and madness.

Kialandi felt her fingertips encrusted in dried blood as she pondered upon the events of her recent existence. She had not eaten nor drank for days; only seeking the Rider Eragon to cease the compulsion in her head. She vaguely recalled where she woke up: a dark and deteriorating room:

_No thought or voice resided her in head: just the sensation of forever walking an endless void. She felt no hunger, no thirst, no love nor hate. She was simply there. Although, she had no physical form: she had no legs, but she knew she could walk forward. She felt as if she was missing half of herself. She had been whole, and now, she wasn't. She remembered she had a companion. Her dragon. She could not remember her dragon's name. It drove her to near insanity. No matter how hard she tried, the name always escaped her mind. She wept. She felt no tears running down her face, but she wept. A part of her did and forever will mourn the loss. _

_There was darkness, an abyss that had swallowed her from reality. She did not know how long she wandered the void, nor grew weary of the darkness and shadows. But she was the light, a throbbing and wandering entity that explored the void. But there was nothing to see, nothing to taste, nothing to smell, nothing to hear or nothing to feel. Millennia could have passed and she would not know. _

_As time evolved into eternity, she found herself still wandering the black chasm. The utter darkness had made her feel comforted- after what seemed like an endless time of its presence. So when a light appeared in the distance, she had recoiled. She did not want to be pulled back into such brilliant intensity. She wanted to be cocooned in the darkness, where there was nothing. But as the light became bigger and brighter, she found herself moving towards it. It was far away, a light that could have been deceiving her, but she did not care. She simply wanted to reach it._

_Suddenly, she was no longer apprehensive, nor anxious of the light. She felt herself propel forward, moving at an incredible speed towards her target. The light became bigger, encompassing a now visible horizon. As she finally reached the light, she came to an abrupt halt. The light was pulsing, and surprise filled her when her senses gradually returned. She could smell rotting air, wood and burning. She could taste a strong and acidic substance that seemed to linger in her tongue and throat. She could hear a distant chanting, the sound of voices and words now seemingly unfamiliar to her. She could feel herself being sucked forward into the light, sensation returning; ache and pain piercing her body. She now felt it; her body, arms, legs. She could see the light infront of her, expanding and swelling. She moved forward; a raised arm and finger toward the light. Before her fingertip could touch the light, it abruptly disappeared._

_A full second passed. _

_Then, before her, the world exploded. _

_She screamed. _

_Dark dots and shapes filled the endless white, moving towards her with unrelenting speed. There were hundreds of them, and they covered the pure whiteness with their darkness. She cowered before them as they reached her. The dark shapes materialized faces; twisted and unpleasant. They whispered to her, beckoning her to open her mind to them. She refused and screeched, her voice rivalling the hundreds of whispers. They did not concede, but merely watched her in mocking amusement._

_She did not how much time passed as the dark faces and shapes watched her. She grew tired of screaming. And when her mental defence collapsed in the face of her own incoherence, the dark shapes invaded her mind. It was agony. Her mind felt as it had been ripped apart; the hundreds of presences cramming into her head. Her corporeal form trembled at the impact and she felt the ground on her knees. Cruel fate was, she thought, as she remembered her dying moment. She had been on her knees. Now, as if she was going to die again, she was again on her knees. Humiliation and anger doubled within her. She remembered her past life; she was an exceedingly proficient and formidable Rider. Feared and revered she was. She was not going to concede defeat. As the presences filled her head, her wrath burgeoned and she let loose almost an unearthly shrilling scream._

_She _fought.

_She was a dragon rider. A being, excluding dragons, more supreme than any other creature on the world. She would not bow down or allow spirits to conquer her. She felt her legs tremble as she struggled to stand. All the while, she endeavoured to purge spirits from her mind. Some were obliterated, some remained. Then, as what she wanted, the remaining spirits cowered before her, terrified of the being they had attempted to possess._

_As she fought for supremacy, the spirits rushed inside her mind, embedding themselves in her psyche. As everything was abruptly sucked in and all sounds and sensation terminated, she found herself standing upright. The spirits were in her head, but they were silenced._

_Strength filled her bones and her flesh seemed as if began to knit itself together. _

_And like a cold spear driving through her entire body: she _awakened_._

**-x-**

© Christopher Paolinni

_"Where have you been?" demanded Garrow, the lines on his face harsh in the candlelight. "The horses need bringing in."_

Eragon did his best to ignore his waking dreams as he stood on the dais in the main hall of the keep, directly to the right of Lord Bradburn's throne. He placed his left hand on the pommel of Brisingr, which was sheathed, and adopted a more casual pose, hoping no one would notice his exhaustion.

On the other side of the throne stood Jormundur, holding his helmet in the crook of his left arm. The hair at his temples was streaked with gray; the rest was brown, and all of it was pulled back into a long braid. His lean face bore the studiously blank expression of a person who had extensive experience waiting on others. Eragon noticed a thin line of red running along the underside of Jormundur's right bracer, from some wound or another, but Jormundur showed no sign of pain.

Between the two of them sat Nasuada, resplendent in a dress of green and yellow, which she had donned just moments before, exchanging the bright raiment of war for garb more suited to the practice of statecraft. She too had been marked during the fighting, as was evidenced by the white linen bandage wrapped around her left hand.

In a low voice, so that only Eragon and Jormundur could hear, Nasuada said, "If we can but gain their support..."

"What will they want in return, though?" asked Jormundur. "Our coffers are near empty, and our future uncertain."

Her lips barely moving, she said, "Perhaps they wish nothing more of us than a chance to strike back at Galbatorix." She paused. "But if not, we shall have to find other means of persuading them besides gold to join our ranks."

"You could offer them barrels of cream," said Eragon, which elicited a chortle from Jormundur and a soft laugh from Nasuada.

Their murmured conversation came to an end as three trumpets sounded outside the main hall. Then a flaxen-haired page dressed in a tunic stitched with the Varden's standard - a white dragon holding a rose above a sword pointing downward on a purple field - marched through the open doorway at the far end of the hall, struck the floor with the ceremonial staff he carried, and, with a thin warbling voice announced, "His Most Exalted Royal Highness, Grimrr Halfpaw, King of the Werecats, Lord of the Lonely Places, Ruler of the Night Reaches, and He Who Walks Alone."

A strange title that_: He Who Walks Alone, Eragon observed to Saphira._

_But well deserved, I would guess,_she replied, and he could sense her amusement, even though he could not see her where she lay coiled in the keep of the castle.

The page stepped aside, and through the doorway strode Grimrr Halfpaw in the shape of a human, trailed by four other werecats, who padded close behind him on large shaggy paws. The four resembled Solembum, the one other werecat Eragon had seen in the guise of an animal: heavy-shouldered and long-limbed, with short, dark ruffs upon their necks and withers, tasseled ears, and black-tipped tails, which they waved gracefully from side to side.

Grimrr Halfpaw, however, looked unlike any person or creature Eragon had ever seen. At roughly four feet tall, he was the same height as a dwarf, but no one could have mistaken him for a dwarf, or even for a human. He had a small, pointed chin, wide cheekbones, and, underneath unswept brows, slanted green eyes fringed with winglike eyelashes. In the front, his ragged black hair hung low over his forehead, while on the sides and back, it fell to his shoulders, where it lay smooth and lustrous, much like the manes of his companions. His age was impossible for Eragon to guess.

The only clothes Grimrr wore were a rough leather vest and a rabbit-skin loincloth. The skulls of a dozen or so animals-birds, mice, and other small game-were tied to the front of the vest, and they rattled against one another as he moved. A sheathed dagger protruded at an angle from under the belt of his loincloth. Numerous scars, thin and white, marked his nut-brown skin, like scratches on a well-used chair or table. And, as his name indicated, he was missing two fingers on his left hand; they looked to have been bitten off.

Despite the delicacy of his features, there was no doubt that Grimmr was male, not given the hard, sinewy muscles of his arms and chest, the narrowness of his hips, and the coiled power of his stride as he walked down the length of the hall toward Nasuada.

None of the werecats seemed to notice the people lined up on either side of their path, watching them, until Grimrr came level with the herbalist Angela, who stood next to Roran, knitting a tube sock with six needles at once.

Grimrr's eyes narrowed as he beheld the herbalist, and his hair rippled and spiked, as did that of his four guards. His lips drew back to reveal a pair of curved white fangs, and, to Eragon's astonishment, he uttered a short, loud hiss.

Angela looked up from the sock, her expression languid and insolent. "Cheep cheep," she said.

For a moment, Eragon thought that the werecat was going to attack her. A dark flush mottled Grimrr's neck and face, his nostrils flared, and he stared silently at her. The other werecats settled into low crouches, ready to pounce, their ears pressed flat against their heads.

Throughout the hall, Eragon heard the slither of blades being drawn from their scabbards.

Grimrr hissed once more, then turned away from the herbalist and continued walking. As the last werecat in line passed Angela, he took a surreptitious swipe at the line of yarn that drooped from her needles, just like a playful house cat might.

Saphira's bewilderment was equal to Eragon's own. Cheep cheep? she asked.

He shrugged, forgetting that she could not see him. Who knows why Angela does or says anything?

At last, Grimrr arrived before Nasuada. He stopped and inclined his head ever so slightly, displaying with his bearing the supreme confidence, even arrogance, that was the sole province of cats, dragons, and certain highborn women.

"Lady Nasuada," he said. His voice was surprisingly deep, more akin to the low, coughing roar of a male wildcat than the high-pitched tones of the boy he resembled.

Nasuada inclined her head in turn. "King Halfpaw. You are most welcome to the Varden, you and all your race. I must apologize for King Orrin's absence; he could not be here to greet you, as he wished, for he and his horsemen are even now busy defending our westward flank from a contingent of Galbatorix's troops."

"Of course, Lady Nasuada," said Grimrr. His sharp teeth flashed as he spoke. "You must never turn your back on your enemies."

"Even so. And to what do we owe the unexpected pleasure of this visit, Your Highness? Werecats have always been noted for their secrecy and their solitude, and for remaining apart from the conflicts of the age, especially since the fall of the Riders. One might even say that your kind has become more myth than fact over the past century. Why, then, do you now choose to reveal yourselves?"

Grimrr lifted his right arm and pointed at Eragon with a crooked finger topped by a clawlike nail, shocking Eragon out of his latest round of waking dreams, which had involved an Urgal, a dwarf, and a pair of swords made of ice.

"Because of him," growled the werecat. "One does not attack another hunter until he has shown his weakness, and Galbatorix has shown us his: he will not kill Eragon Shadeslayer or Saphira Bjartskular. Long have we waited for this opportunity, and seize it we will. Galbatorix will learn to fear and hate us, and, at the last, he will realize the extent of his mistake and know that we were the ones responsible for his undoing. And how sweet that revenge will taste, as sweet as the marrow of a tender young boar.

"Time has come, human, for every race, even werecats, to stand together and prove to Galbatorix that he has not broken our will to fight. We would join your army, Lady Nasuada, as free allies, and help you achieve this."

Whatever Nasuada was thinking, Eragon could not tell, but, for himself, he was impressed by the werecat's speech, as was Saphira.

After a brief pause, Nasuada said, "Your words fall most pleasantly upon my ears, Your Highness. But before I can accept your offer, there are answers I must have of you, if you are willing."

With an air of unshakable indifference, Grimrr waved a hand. "I am."

"Your race has been so secretive and elusive, I must confess, I had not heard tell of Your Highness until this very day. As a point of fact, I did not even know your race had a ruler.

"I am not a king like your kings," said Grimrr. "For the most part, werecats prefer to walk alone, but even we must choose a ruler to lead us to war when we go."

"I see. Do you speak for your whole race, then, or only for those who travel with you?"

Grimmr's chest swelled, and his expression became, if possible, even more self-satisfied. "I speak for all of my kind, Lady Nasuada," he purred. "Every able-bodied werecat in Alagaesia, save those who are nursing, has come here to fight. There are few of us, but none can equal our ferocity in battle. And I can also command the one-shapes, although I cannot speak for them, for they are as dumb as other animals. Still, they will do what we ask of them."

"One-shapes?" Nusuada inquired.

"Those you know as cats. Those who cannot change their skins, as we do."

"And you command their loyalty?"

"Aye. They admire us... it is only natural."

_If what he says is true,_ Eragon commented to Saphira, _the werecats could prove to be incredibly valuable._

Then Nasuada said, "And what is it you desire of us in exchange for your assistance, King Halfpaw?" She glanced at Eragon and smiled, then added, "We can offer you as much cream as you want, but beyond that, our resources are limited. If your warriors expect to be paid for their troubles, I fear they will be sorely disappointed."

"Cream is for kittens, and gold holds no interest for us," said Grimrr. As he spoke, he lifted his right hand and inspected his nails with a heavy-lidded gaze. "Our terms are thus: Each of us will be given a dagger to fight with, if we do not already have one. Each of us is to have two suits of armor made to fit, one for when on two legs we stand, and one for when on four. We need no other equipment than that: no tents, no blankets, no plates, no spoons. Each of us will be promised a single duck, grouse, chicken, or similar bird per day, and, every second day, a bowl of freshly chopped liver. Even if we do not choose to eat it, the food will be set aside for us. Also, if you should win this war, then whoever becomes your next king or queen - and all who claim that title thereafter - will keep a padded cushion next to their throne, in a place of honor, for one of us to sit on, if we so wish."

"You bargain like a dwarven lawgiver," said Nasuada in a dry tone. She leaned over to Jormundur, and Eragon heard her whisper, "Do we have enough liver to feed them all?"

"I think so," Jormundur replied in an equally hushed voice. "But it depends on the size of the bowl."

Nasuada straightened in her seat. "Two sets of armor is one too many, King Halfpaw. Your warriors will have to decide whether they want to fight as cats or as humans and then abide by the decision. I cannot afford to outfit them for both."

If Grimrr had had a tail, Eragon was sure it would have twitched back and forth. As it was, the werecat merely shifted his position, as if uneasy to be standing in one place for so long. "Very well, Lady Nasuada."

"There is one more thing. Galbatorix has spies and killers hidden everywhere. Therefore, as a condition of joining the Varden, you must consent to allow one of our spellcasters to examine your memories, so that we may assure ourselves that Galbatorix has no claim on you."

Grimrr sniffed. "You would be foolish not to. If anyone is brave enough to read our thoughts, let them. But not her," and he twisted to point at Angela. "Never her."

Nasuada hesitated, and Eragon could see that she wanted to ask why but restrained herself. "So be it. I will send for magicians at once, that we may settle this matter without delay. Depending on what they find - and it will be nothing untoward, I'm sure - I am honored to form an alliance between you and the Varden, King Halfpaw."

At her words, all of the humans in the hall broke out cheering and began to clap, including Angela. Even the elves appeared pleased.

The Werecats, however, did not react, except to tilt their ears backward in annoyance at thse noise.

© Christopher Paolinni

**-x-**

_She knew she was in the corporeal world when she opened her eyes. The void was limitless, but where she was now seemed far from endless. A roof covered her, and walls surrounded her. Sensations bombarded her. The smell of rotting air, burning and wood seemed stronger. The taste of the strong and acidic substance now not only lingered in her tongue and throat, but burned it. The distant chanting she had heard now amplified and she heard the voices and words clearly and plainly. Words of the Ancient Language were voiced and she felt its power weave into the air. She could feel the heaviness of her body, the stiffness of her long and unused muscles. She urged herself to move, an action that jolted her entire body. _

_The chanting around her ceased, replaced by such a still silence that she even heard her heavy breathing. Her eyes grew accustomed to the colours surrounding her. And she began to recognize the shapes. She counted three and ten humans before her. Five were on the floor. She could only guess they suffered death from the heavy exertion. However, the eight left stood before her, seemingly uncaring of their fallen comrades. Five were males; they would have been ordinary, but all had shaved heads. Even the four males who now lay dead on the floor had shaved heads; the other was female who looked typically common. There were three females left alive. Unlike the males, they had kept their hair, but they all had two things in common; all were garbed in leather black and a tattoo was etched on their bared or left forearms. She discerned it to be the rune symbol of Fate. _

_One male stepped forward and offered a helping hand. She realized she was still on the floor. Refusing the hand, she stood by herself and eyed the humans with cool and easy gaze. She wore no clothes, but she was not abashed by her appearance. But one of the human females stepped forward and handed her a cloak. She took it and wrapped it around herself, feeling the smooth cloth cover her body. Her memories were surging back to her, fragment by fragment. _

_She was a former Dragon rider, one of the Forsworn. She came from the city of Silthrim in Du Weldenvarden. At the age of three and forty, a dragon, whose name had now evaded her, hatched for her, making her a Dragon Rider. _

_As she stood surveying her audience, she realized the deed they had performed. Simmering rage began to boil in her veins. Indeed she was resurrected, but they had channelled spirits within her. The male who had stepped forward spoke, _"Shur'tugal Kialandi, we welcome you back into the world."

_Still the anger smouldering within her, Kialandi said, "Why have you brought me back?" Her senses seemed to have even more enhanced and with perfect lucidity, she could discern the man's perspiration as he tried to appear calm before her. Obviously, they had expected different behaviour from her. Perhaps a distorted voice. Kialandi heard her voice. It sounded melodical, as always, and her elven cadence and tone remained; light and beautiful. Kialandi also felt her straight midnight-dark hair-an aspect that should have been maroon red due to her transformation as a Shade- tumble past her shoulder as she moved, turning slowly and lithely to observe the circle formation the humans formed around her. Kialandi heard the whispers in her mind, the images of carnage and blood surfacing. A sudden urge to kill began to beat upon her. Waiting for the response of the human male, Kialandi restrained the urge from ripping out his heart from his chest. Or to twist and break his neck. The spirits' whispers urged her to do it._

_With the strength of a Rider, she silenced them. They did so. _

_The human male had still not replied. Kialandi realized he was probably trying to form an answer logical enough to save them all. With thirteen of them- an unusual and exceeding number needed to do so to perform a summoning of a Shade- the ones who remained alive stood with a calm exterior, but Kialandi could hear the pounding of their hearts. The spirits revelled in their fear, but she was merely putting the pieces together. The magicians thought to enslave her. The spirits should have possessed her, making her become a Shade, but the spirits had partially failed. She was still herself, although from the quick probes of their minds, Kialandi knew her eyes had not remained the same. They were maroon, like a Shade's. Pity, she liked her eye colour- they had been a vivid and intense ice blue. In the past, with her eyes, she had been able to make people, even some of the elves, unsettled at times. Ice blue eyes that she knew could pierce calm expressions and reduce them to uneasiness. But, as the humans' unruffled façade began to break, she knew that the maroon eyes would do. _

_Kialandi answered for the man, as her patience finally reached its end, "You thought to control me? To expect that I'd be a shivering shell of my former self, possessed by spirits?" The human male flinched. Kialandi knew she had hit a nerve. Her assumptions were correct. Well no one controlled her. But before she eliminated them, Kialandi needed some essential answers, "What has happened to me?" _

_The human male, temporarily calmed by her soft tone responded, "We have summoned spirits within you." Kialandi restrained to backhand him. That much she knew. _

"_Has Galbatorix ordered you to do so?" Kialandi knew that the dark king had been fond of her. Her service had proved useful. She had been able to kill several and key people of the Varden and had managed, along with Formora, to capture the Elder Rider, Oromis and his dragon Glaedr. Oh yes, she had been a proficient and significant follower. _

"_No, he has not." The human male answered- a response which immensely surprised her. So, they _did _think they could control her. What would they have her do? Use her upon their whim? Such notion was simply laughable. She decided not to kill them… yet. _

_She deviated from the topic, and she made her voice sound welcoming, "What is your name, human?" _

"_Varock, Shurt'ugal," the human male replied. _

_Kialandi nodded and with a hand, she gestured upon their tattoos, "Why do you have the symbol of Fate tattooed on your flesh?" _

_All of them seemed to have been taken aback, surprise flashing in their features. The human male, now Kialandi acknowledged as their leader said, "It means we are members of the Black Hand." _

_Kialandi was surprised at the knowledge. She knew such organization existed, but she hadn't known that of late, they now preferred to ink their flesh with such a needless feature. It would merely make them more recognizable, thus easier for their adversaries to tell who they are and perhaps kill them. But Kialandi realized that it would also make anyone who knew what the symbol stood for fearful of them. The latter part of her conclusion seemed more appropriate, for she knew the feeling of being feared. She herself, delighted in it. _

"_Where are we?' She asked; weary of the long filled silences._

"_Helgrind, Shur'tugal," the human replied. _

"_Does Galbatorix know of my existence?" asked Kialandi, her countenance impassive. _

"_No, Shur'tugal." _

_Kialandi felt relief sweeping through her. Without Galbatorix trying to control her, she could circumvent her diminishing oath to him, and become her own master. She needed a fresh start. She did not truly know what her heart desired. Yes, she had joined Galbatorix to become one of the Forsworn in order to make way to a new generation of Riders. But knowledge was power and she had been erased from existence for a century. Many events could have occurred without her awareness. _Perhaps the humans are of use after all, _she thought as she demanded them to tell her the major events that had transpired since her death. _

_Knowledge was indeed useful. _

_Kialandi was astonished to find out that Murtagh- a spawn of the much favoured Forsworn Rider, Morzan- had become a Red Rider. Not only that, but he had also been enslaved by Galbatorix. Slightly different from his father- who had been a sworn ally and a faithful servant of Galbatorix- but a servant nonetheless. Following in a father's footsteps indeed. But the information which intrigued her most was a new Rider- Eragon Son of None, was the Varden's present embellishment of hope. Kialandi found the Rider's namesake interesting, for she knew the very first Rider had been called Eragon. _

_She was also surprised to hear that the Urgals had changed sides; King Hrothgar of the Dwarves had been slain by Murtagh; Deynor and his predecessor, Ajihad were deceased, but Ajihad's daughter- whom was called Nasuada, had taken the role as the Varden's leader; the Varden had also conquered most of the southern Empire cities and the Elves had come forth from their long hiding in Du WeldenVarden. The succession of information was absorbed by Kialandi and she revelled at her newfound knowledge. The world had indeed changed. So much information to grasp. _

_And Galbatorix had apparently still not emerge from his castle in Illirea- which was known to present humans as Uru'baen. Kialandi momentarily wondered why. She knew Galbtorix held a vast amount of Eldunarya; several she even assisted in obtaining. Such simple task just to ride out and obliterate the opposing Rider. But Kilandi knew that Galbatorix was a man of complexity. For all she knew, he had plans far beyond human comprehension. She herself, was clueless at his decision in remaining behind the great walls of Illirea._

_ Nevertheless, all answers would present themselves in due time. She had already made plans of her own. Murtagh Morzansson will find himself in an intricate web of loyalty, albeit forced. Varock divulged a most important knowledge; Murtagh was rooted in the Varden, acting as a false ally. Such position was highly dangerous, for his deceit could be uncovered. But that position was what allowed Kialandi to form her plan. She could help Murtagh circumvent his oath, but for a price; he would swear fealty to her. Kialandi needed a powerful ally, but Eragon Son of None was out of the question. If her burgeoning desire to kill him would prove to be a constant compulsion; then that partnership would certainly not work- with her continuously trying to kill him. No, she needed another Rider ally. And if that had to be Morzan's spawn, then be it. Morzan had been of cool and cunning, yet arrogant disposition. Despite the arrogance, the man was good company. She half expected his son to be of the same temperment.  
_

_When the last information was finally imparted, Kialandi had to restrain herself not to appear beyond stunned. Ancient rider, Oromis and his dragon Glaedr had survived the Fall of the Riders. At first, her mind refused to acknowledge it, but the news slowly sank in. They had emerged from their long hiding in Du Weldenvarden to fight against Murtagh and his dragon Thorn in the city of Gil'ead. Kialandi, along with Formora, had personally tortured and crippled the Rider Oromis and his survival staggered Kialandi. But they would have been better off hiding, for they were slain, by Murtagh's physical hand, but with Galbatorix' mental presence. Still, the knowledge stunned her. Kialandi waited until Varock imparted a few more pieces of information, ones which were slightly insignificant. _

_When he finished, he looked at her with expectance. _

_Kialandi merely shifted from her rigid position. "A century of events… told in a mere hour…" She pondered aloud. Now she had what she wanted: knowledge._

_During Varock's recount of events, she had felt the other magicians silently and secretly endeavouring to weave a web of magic. One that would incapacitate and trap her. She restrained a sly smile to form her lips. Such fools these humans were. She was a Rider Shade. What hope could they stand? Still, Kialandi allowed them a few more minutes of existence. The web of magic they had weaved felt insufficient under her fleeting probe. _

_Kialandi faced the human male and stepped closer until they were eye level. The male was tall, a fact that helped him not to be intimidated as she was a tall female. She spoke, serene and eerily calm, "Did you perform the normal procedure for a Shade summoning?" _

_When the human spoke, a hint of trembling tinged his voice and Kialandi knew she was the only one able to pick it up, "No, Shur'tugal." _

_Slowly, the whispers began to dominate her mind. This time. Kialandi let them, for she deemed the humans' existence had reached its ultimate end. The fact that they also tried to bind her amplified her rage all the more. The spirits whispered and painted gruesome images. Although her normal practice seemed much more merciful, the images produced seemed much more deserving of such people who thought could enslave her. Kialandi felt dark shadows creep from her, and she knew that she appeared as cruel and as heartless as the woman was on the reflection from the man's eyes. As Varock opened his mouth to speak, Kialandi attacked. _

She had killed them all of course. But in slight irrational thought and half-driven madness. It was all she could do to silence the never-ending whispers in her head. Those three and ten magicians had summoned spirits to reside within her, making her a Shade. She almost smiled in reminiscence at the thought of those human magicians thinking they could control her, a former Dragon Rider, to their will. But as she turned away from the battle scene ahead of her; she regrettably remembered to ask the human what made her spirit summoning different from the usual ones.

She was clearly not a full Shade, but she had the strength of one. Combined with her former Rider abilities, it enhanced her capabilities. Her senses were acutely sharper; her strength had increased. Thanks to her new abilities, she had lasted against a dragon and a Rider.

But no, she will not be attacking any Rider soon. There were no beckoning compulsions in her head nor whispers to inflict. As long as she could subdue them, then the desire to kill anyone, anything, could be controlled. The bloodthirsty nature of Shades was terribly infamous. Having read numerous scrolls about them, Kialandi knew that the spirits would now forever be within her. To separate her from them would mean death. And her death was the last thing on her mind.

* * *

© Christopher Paolinni - From _Inheritance _excerpt.

So leave me a review guys; what you think, what you disliked/liked. There's always a room for improvement. Thanks for the reviews in advance.**  
**

**-_CJ_  
**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_A/N: Woop woop. *Sigh* Usually, at every update I say my excuse for the extremely long delay, but I think you've had enough of my excuses now xD But I have a really simple explanation this time: College. There. So on that note, I'm just gonna say, here's another chapter! An ExA chapter filler. Hope you enjoy!  
Side note: Haven't proof-read it, but please feel free to point out any mistakes. And as always, constructive criticism is welcomed and accepted.  
_

* * *

Deep and rich pink, amber and rosy red streaked through the sunset sky. The combination of colours cast the land into a fiery and beautiful warm glow. Despite the touch of dusk, the land seemed ablaze, a statement that reflected the plains far ahead. Smoke rose in ominous spiral pillars in the battlefield of Belatona.

Murtagh stared at the aftermath. He had remained as still and silent as a rock for what seemed like the past hour. His back mutely pleaded for movement, but to no avail. Thorn had curled up two quarters of an hour ago, and had fallen into the same wordless observance as his Rider.

As the last few plumes of smoke faded, Murtagh finally stirred. He stifled a groan as his numb muscles wakened from their tense slumber. He sauntered over to the edge of the cliff, further and further until he was a mere step away from plummet. Behind him, Murtagh heard a scuffling noise; Thorn shifted.

A few seconds elapsed. "Sweet eternity of freedom awaits," Murtagh spoke hoarsely. In their mental connection, Thorn let his feelings of distress, agony and pain leak in. "Sweet eternity," Murtagh repeated quietly in a pained tone, "Possible to achieve in a single, measly step."

The dusk breeze blew upon them, kissing Murtagh's flesh with its cold fleeting touch. He gazed below the edge; into the deep abyss. Jagged rocks protruded from the ground, seemingly eager to reach out to the skies. He almost let out a mirthless laugh. _If only if it were that easy._ Their oath to the dark king would prevent them to take their own lives. Bereft of any basic right and claim to anything, Murtagh and Thorn were simply nothing but pawns. They existed- solely for exploitation. They weren't living; they simply…existed.

Hated, feared… Murtagh, if not for the restrictions of oaths, would actually consider choosing the eternal rest. But be as it may so; it was a coward's exit.

A silent retreat.

A silent failure.

A silent defeat.

Yet it would be a silent triumph; a quiet march into oblivion, where nothing would rule him but his mind and heart. Murtagh let his dark and miserable thoughts wash over him. Like a wave, they receded, but would crash back into him with a stronger impact than the previous wave. Modicums of rational thought seemed to quietly ebb away.

After today's events, he felt lonelier than ever. Truly realized his self-worth. There was nothing and no one in the world that could show him some kindness.

Carnage: he had ashamedly reveled in it once; a sentient he endeavored so hard to restrain but failed. He knew a part of him reveled the blood. Cherished the cold. Welcomed the brutality. He repeatedly used his father as the excuse for such likeness, but at one point or another, he didn't believe in it. For a brief moment, he knew he had become the very monster he despised.

For the first time, in his quiet reverie, Thorn interrupted Murtagh's silence. _A monster chooses his actions, _Thorn, as gentle as a dragon would ever dare to, spoke softly, _we do not._

Calm and cool, Murtagh shifted his gaze from the darkness into the rich-coloured sky. The light colours' streaks had receded; giving way to the beginning of night. A touch of night air swept through them. Unruffled by the sudden chill, Murtagh sighed and replied just as gently, _I suppose not. _

Then he glanced at Thorn, a strange and lost look in his eyes, seemingly searching for an answer that he did not know a question to. Murtagh suddenly spoke out loud, his voice the only sound carrying in the wind.

"_Despite_ swearing in the Ancient Language, Eragon and Saphira had attaked us. _Despite_ swearing in the Ancient Language, the Werecats had attacked us. Everyone who ever crosses our path… anyone: we are always shown hostility," Murtagh transferred his gaze from the darkening sky to the wildfire eyes beside him, "Yes it is something we cannot change… but will it ever? Perhaps… if we live another hundred years or so, but even then. Stories sometimes live longer than the stories tell of."

Sitting on a boulder, Murtagh ran his still grime-covered hands and raked his damp, battle-strewn hair. Then, he rested his arms on his knees, resting his chin above the left arm, looking out over to the plains. "Even if we somehow leave Galbatorix' service, people will always, _always _see us the same."

Thorn grunted and shuffled closer to his Rider. His snout nudged his back and as regal as any dragon was, he lifted his head, surveying the world before them. The plumes of smoke ahead had ceased billowing. Birds flew past; chirping and singing, leaving a trail of music in their wake. Soft breeze gently blew over them, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees.

Somewhere, a close distance away, an owl hooted, signaling the dominance of the night. Everything- the world, in its seemingly bleak and darkening portrayal from battle not only a few hours ago, appeared frighteningly beautiful from their current vantage point. A lone streak of red had remained in the sky, the only colour in the mass of darkening blue.

Suddenly, the soft breeze died down a bit, bringing with it, a terrifying but serene silence.

The world stilled for a bittersweet second. Nothing seemed to move; there was no sound; only the silence of the world.

And then, the breeze picked up again. Thorn dipped his head, and stated his observance; _Nothing is ever the same. _

Murtagh sighed, the sound merging with the wind. His emotions, wild and in chaos gradually calmed down. Thorn's serene manner suffused into his, affecting him to a profound level. He leant his head against Thorn's snout. _What are we going to do about Kialandi? I will not have her exploit us._

Thorn grunted, _She won't._

_Why is that?_

_She needs us, _Thorn said simply, _We will be on even ground with her. It is a give-and-take situation. She needs us as allies, not enemies._

Murtagh considered his dragon's statement for a moment, _What makes you think that she considers us allies?_

_When she contacted us, I felt the vastness and complete dominance of her mind. I am a dragon, yet her mind was a match even for me. For both of us. _Thorn paused; _She wouldn't have sought us and left us alive if she didn't need us. _

**-x-**

The ever-burning lanterns lined the spacious tent's walls; their flames casting an orange glow on the people inside. The firelight appeared soft and gentle upon the Elves' skin. In perfect semi-circle formation, they had gathered around their fallen comrades, their postures painfully rigid, and the air heavy with profound grief. Arya's face was expressionless, as it was ever so often. She stood perfectly still; rigid yet regal. She stared without really seeing; her sight had lost their concentration a while ago, her thoughts aimless, but her grief and sadness heavy in her heart and mind. She knew the three elves who now lay dead infront of her. They were exceptional spellcasters, some of the best amongst the ranks of the elves.

In the soft firelight, Arya saw glistening tears fall from the eyes of her brethren. Blodhgarm, whom had closely known all of the spellcasters around her, looked in deep despair. Arya knew how he felt- it was a wretched feeling, and she knew, she knew _exactly _how it felt. She had felt it. When Faolin and Glenwing had fallen from their mighty steeds; the sorrow drove deep in her heart. It was a sharp, burning spear that seemed to have embedded itself in her heart and twisted it. There it remained until she felt the unbearable guilt at their deaths eating away at her sanity. The spear had not left her; it had only felt familiar and numb afterwards. Now, looking upon the faces of the fallen elves, the spear felt hotter and it evoked the sharp and guilt-ridden sensation.

Around her, the silence was unmistakably tense. They all knew they should just "acknowledge" the deaths and resume their tasks. But dark events of late had seemed to finally hit their hearts. Blodhgarm's dark navy fur rippled in the light as he moved. He spoke in the Ancient Language, his melodic tone, however gentle it sounded, seemed to rip the long-filled silence, "We mourn for our fallen brethren; they shall not be forgotten," One of the female spellcasters, Eärwen, wept silently, for one of the elves who now lay dead, had been her mate, Araeli. Arya knew they had only begun their union recently, shortly after they arrived in the Varden. Arya could only imagine the impact of his death on her. Such sentiment was not long ago alien to her; the unbearable shadow called grief, had visited her once. Resided in her heart even. Faolin's death had diminished a part of her, left an everlasting mark. Her heart swelled with the pain, in sympathy of Earwen's loss.

Blodhgarm's voice filled the tent yet again, his voice like a flat sound, reflecting the misery of the company around him, "We shall grant them the honour of an elven burial. We shall sing the songs of the old, the song sung upon the dead, to merge them with the earth; so their spirits may continue to live with us." Blodhgarm's words were uttered in the Ancient Language and the impact of the words seemed to fiercely lodge their meanings in their hearts.

Arya listened, the grief still heavy in her heart. It had intensified with every miserable thought that continuously filled her head. They were relentless and strong, unwavering in their intent to make her feel more dejected than she already felt.

The elves stood for a few more minutes, in silence, respecting the passing of their comrades, their friends. Arya felt Blodhgarm's eyes on her and she knew what he required of her. Although Blodhgarm was the elves' leader, she- Arya Drottningu, was their princess. They were her people. And as long as she was in the room, in their eyes, she was the one they took commands from.

Tilting her head, and with the grace and elegance of a princess, she nodded her head. In the softest voice and continuing in the Ancient Language, "Let us grant them the gift of eternal rest."

Upon her command, the Elves in unity carried the brave, fallen warriors from the ground and out into the cold darkness of the night. They walked a considerable distance away from the Varden camp, to a quiet, almost somber and secluded plain. Soft moonlight washed upon the grass, the silent footsteps of the elves blending with the faint breeze. The night air bit their flesh; cold and sharp, just like the guilt that resided in all of their hearts. Arya stood in the centre of the semi-circle formation, infront of the carefully laid elves. Although it was what her role required of her, Arya wanted no more than to walk away from the heavy grief and just sit in isolation, left alone to her own thoughts and misery.

Inhaling deeply, Arya, in her melodic and enchanting voice, began to sing the words of old. The incantation was ancient, a traditional song they would all sing whenever an elf passed into the void. With her, the elves began to sing, their voices weaving a profound invocation, their singing echoing throughout the land in overwhelming despair;

"Lay to rest friend,  
Look to no oppressor, nor misery, nor sadness  
There shall only be sweet peace  
Eternal rest awaits you.

Lay to rest friend,  
Look to the stars above, towards the Light  
There shall only be sweet peace  
Eternal rest awaits you.

Lay to rest friend,  
Look to the horizon, to the eternal pure white, to nowhere but what your heart desires,  
There shall only be sweet peace  
There shall only be solace  
No more shall you suffer; in the sweet slumber you shall rest  
Time will have no end  
Eternal rest welcomes you."

The song was a united harmony, the bittersweet sound echoing throughout the land. If the song reached human ears, the words of the song would be lost in the painfully somber tune. To them, it would be nothing more than a seemingly woeful night filled with a strange, spine-tingling melody that would fill their hearts with rootless misery.

Stillness regained dominance over the plains. Even the breeze seemed to pause, holding its breath with the elves. Gradually, reverently, the three bodies were embraced by mother earth. With her encompassing arms, she gathered the bodies, covered them with a brown blanket and laid them to rest.

A minute elapsed and the Elves were gathered around an empty space. In the place where the bodies were- three small, subtle mounds had formed. Then, in silent reverence, the elves watched as white flowers slowly sprouted from the soil. Under the moonlight, the process was both beautiful and sorrowful. As the white flowers reached their full growth, they looked to the moon, mutely facing it with their open petals. In unison, the Elves dipped their heads, a final sign of reverence; a final goodbye.

Wordlessly, Arya turned from the doleful sight and left. Into the forest nearby, she disappeared. It was deemed acceptable to leave after the final farewell and Arya had been restraining herself to leave ever since they had all gathered in the tent. Her tears had dried, but she felt fresh ones brimming in her eyes. She was a fleeting shadow amongst the trees; a silent soul seeking solace in the darkness of the night. Aimless thoughts and visions floated in Arya's mind; images of the past surfacing against her will. Like her tears, she couldn't stop them from flowing.

The lonely path before her disappeared; instead, a path filled with autumn's first crisp leaves took its place. Arya shook her head, the transient image blurring and fading from her troubled mind. From her silent walk, she started to jog, but images of the past drifted in and out of her sight, jarring her defense; her control.

A brief, acutely colourful flash of an image; under a tree, two figures sat side by side. Arya caught their faces and she shook her head again; harder, willing to chase the visions away. But to no avail. Instead, she heard the voices from her memory, a haunting recollection that she fought to remember:

_A male voice drifted softly in the wind, "Why, the world must be endless. Imagine the horizon beyond Du WeldenVarden, Arya; what it feels like to travel and explore new places. Oh, the adventure!"_

_Arya, so young and naïve she was then, responded joyfully, sitting close next to Faolin, "A sight more beautiful to behold would be the sunsets and sunrise from different vantage points of the world."_

_Faolin gazed upon her most sweetly and murmured, "I behold a sight more beautiful than any nature's creation every day."_

_Faltering at his compliment, Arya blushed and smiled softly, "You are too kind, dear Faolin." But her heart warmed deeply, cherishing the memory, tucking it away in the confines of her mind, along with the image of Faolin smiling at her; his warm eyes never straying from hers. Arya felt the same burgeoning feeling for Faolin, for she found his presence profoundly comforting and pleasant. While she would normally seclude herself from others, she found his company rather enjoyable. They seemed to have many ideas and feelings in common; they both dreamed of exploring beyond the lands of Ellesmera, both keen to fight and help the Varden bring down the tyrant King; Galbatorix. They shared their dreams…and hopes; excited at the prospect of venturing beyond their homeland. _

_Under the shade of Ellesmera's trees, Faolin and Arya laughed and talked endlessly, the twilight casting their lithe figures as they climbed and flitted from tree to tree. Arya laughed openly, the sound like a harmony drifting throughout the forest. Faolin smiled at her, their companionship growing deeper at each passing day. _

Arya gasped at the memory, her tears flowing fiercely. She found herself sitting on the ground, her knees close to her chest. She was helpless as another distant memory rolled like thunder in her mind, making her relive the scene again:

"_It's an honourable thing to die for a cause you believe in. I feel useless behind the barriers of our trees, mother. I want to be out there; fighting… doing anything I can to help our allies." _

_Islanzadi turned to her, anger notable in her prominent features, "I have lost Evandar!" She said in a furious but hushed tone. Her expression altered considerably as she quietly said, "I will not lose you too." _

_Arya was briefly touched by her statement, but as ever, she remained stubbornly adamant with her decision, "I want to fight. Allow me to undertake the role as an Ambassador," she paused, looked away from her mother's unrelenting gaze, "Allow me to pledge myself to the Yawe." _

The vision faded yet again, but another shortly followed. The recollection of memories washed upon Arya with a fierce wave and she wrapped her arms around her knees, powerless at the remembrance of memories:

_Arya stood between her mother and Faolin, her eyes determinedly fixed on Faolin as he spoke, "Allow me, my Queen, to accompany Arya in her journeys to the outside world." There was a full second before Arya lost her composure and vehemently exclaimed, "No!"_

_Islanzadi looked at her daughter; an almost pitiful expression on her face. She glanced at Faolin, her eyes hard and neutral, "What is your current standing in swordsmanship?"_

_Arya's protest seemed to have been forgotten. Standing her ground, the intensity of her gaze seemed to burn into her mother's countenance. Faolin tilted his head in response, a regretful glance at Arya before turning his attention to Islanzadi, "I have just passed the final test, my Queen." _

_Islanzadi looked at him; approval showing. A transitory hostility passed between her and Arya before she recollected herself. Back straight; her eyes were stern and unrelenting as she held her daughter's firm gaze. Her decision was palpable in those hard eyes. Then she looked at Faolin. _

"_Very well. You may accompany my daughter on your journeys." The horror on Arya's face became evident. Her clenched fists struggled by her sides. "I've also sent for Glenwing; he too, will be a part of your company. See to it that he is aware of your departure." Faolin bowed deeply, acknowledging the order. For a final time, Islanzadi gazed upon her daughter, an apparent remorseful look on her features. _

_Arya, who was beyond enraged by the absence of attention to her protest, could only glower back. _

_She had endeavored to dissuade Faolin from accompanying her, but he was relentless. For once, it was the only time she disliked that stubborn, adamant trait of his. Tears brimming in her eyes, she gave Faolin an icy glare before departing abruptly from their presence. As soon as the door shut behind her, she ran. How long for, she did not know. _

_Weeping, Arya sprinted, seemingly with the force of the wind propelling her forwards, her track taking her to the secret tree she and Faolin always came to. She sat down, a little numbly and stared off into the distance. For a while, she was alone. Then, a quiet rustle of leaves alerted her to another presence. Arya sat up, hastily erasing any worry or stress from her expression. Instead, she summoned an impassive façade, a countenance that was impenetrable. No one could break it: except for one person. Unfortunately for Arya, that one person happened to be the one who found her. _

_Faolin stood at the base of the tree, a little distance from her. He gazed at her with a kind of sadness, yet determination and unyielding aura. Arya had trouble maintaining her glare. He simply sighed and whispered softly, "I cannot let you go alone." _

_With that bittersweet and raw statement, Arya's entire façade deteriorated. She cried, shaking her head. "I have told you what danger this role brings," She paused, looking at him with unfathomable intensity, "How could you? After what I have asked of you!"_

_With a stubborn tilt of his head and a hard gleam in his eyes, Faolin responded, "They become irrelevant. Not when I know I could be of use. When you are out there, in danger, I cannot even begin to imagine the guilt burdened upon me, the _agony _at the fact that _I _could have saved you. Does that not count so?" _

_Defeated and with slumped shoulders, Arya whispered reluctantly, "It does." _

_Faolin moved from his spot ever so slowly. Arya dared not move and continued to stare hard at the ground until Faolin's form came in line of her sight. A cool hand touched her chin gently, tilting it slightly upward. _

_Autumn's effect had the trees' leaves crisp and brown, painting an almost melancholy picture. Arya thought that it fitted the situation. Such heavy and dark foreshadowing laid in her heart, for she knew that nothing could sway Faolin from his decision. So with a silent defeat, she surrendered her arguments and looked at him, knowing full well that having feelings for him were not wise; but perhaps just for once, she could show them. With desire and profound love revealing in her bright emerald eyes, she asked, but deep down knew the answer to, "Why did you?" The question was heavy with meaning, the strength of it almost palpable in the crisp air. _

_Faolin's azure eyes bore deep into hers. "You know I can never lose you."_

As the last vision finally faded, Arya had found herself upon a lakeside. She had sat upon the banks of the lake, the trees surrounding her in comfort. Like the lake's surface, her tears gleamed in silence, the moonlight making them appear like tiny crystals. Arya had wept soundlessly through the memories.

_You know I can never lose you. _

Faolin's sentence echoed in Arya's mind. It drove her insane. He could never lose her. But, she lost him. She. Lost. Him. The raw fact had destroyed her. Completely and entirely. The days in Gil'ead, grieving for him didn't justify the overpowering sorrow she held in her heart.

Two years had passed since Faolin's death, yet Arya still felt the grief and guilt as if his death had only happened yesterday. Sorrow constricted her heart, making breathing a seemingly impossible task. Woeful thoughts filled every corner of her head, making them impossible to escape from. Arya almost let out a bitter laugh. Even she was not safe from her own mind.

Her throat had considerably tightened and choked tears continued to escape her. In the silence of the night, all she could fathom was her despair that made crying seem the only way to ease the raw pain. Arya looked up to the stars, gazing at their brilliance. A wave of profound pain suddenly surged through her. Her heart, despite seemingly already heavy with grief, seemed to become heavier.

She felt her tears trail down her neck. The raw emotions had reduced her to sobbing uncontrollably, her chest rising and falling with each quickened breath. The night breeze had turned into a stinging bitter cold that spiked her skin with unpleasant numbness. Tiny teardrops suddenly began to fall from the sky; the cold liquid landing gently upon Arya's face. Her crying hadn't stopped. Now the Heavens seemed to be weeping with her.

Wrecked internally, Arya's guard had considerably lowered, so she didn't notice the sound of soft footfalls upon the grass. Only when a warm and dry blanket enveloped her did she react. Instinct drove her arm to shoot forward, palm open, searching contact. Her fist did meet flesh- a solid form. Arya's palm was stopped as seemingly gentle as possible, her palm meeting another palm. Opening her eyes, Arya found herself staring into warm brown orbs.

The raw and profound concern shone brilliantly in them; a gleam of familiarity making his eyes twinkle in the night: _Eragon_.

Eragon gazed at Arya, not saying anything. It disturbed her somewhat, that the absolute silence could drive a profound sense of comfort and peace. That bittersweet silence accompanied by his physical presence confounded and comforted her to no end. They simply held a look, an inexplicable feeling of companionship and bonding that neither of them could explain. An acute sense of understanding seemed to pass between them in a matter of seconds. It must have been the ambience and events of late that had finally ruptured the fissures in Arya's defense. For at that apparent moment, everything she had been feeling seemed to amplify. Misery, despair and grief welled within her so quickly that she couldn't restrain them from overwhelming her yet again. Eragon, sensing it, was immediately sat beside her, his arm around her. His voice gentle yet unwavering, he murmured, "I am here."

Clinging onto a modicum of rational mind, Arya barely registered her body's response to his touch. Her quickened breathing had simply calmed; bringing with it a sense of serenity and quiet warmth. Her arms, originally rested on her knees, instinctively left their place and settled on her face as she leant against the nook of his neck. Quiet words of comfort were uttered, Eragon gently calming her, endeavoring to alleviate her pain. Though barely a whisper, Eragon's hushed murmur shattered the anguished silence, breaking through Arya's grief, "They say love beyond the world cannot be separated by it: death cannot kill what never dies." At his words, the wind gave a little sigh, transiently enveloping them with a rare kind of warmth. With the rain falling softly upon their bodies, under the moonlight's soft gaze, and with Eragon's arms wrapped around her, the whole sensation became a kind of immeasurable comfort, unexplainable beyond verbal rationalization. With his head gently leaning against hers, that its weight could be barely felt by Arya, Eragon murmured ever so softly in her native tongue, _"All is not lost, Arya. What is gone today… can remain living forever in the world of tomorrow's. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, nor the glory in the flower, but we will grieve not; I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death." _

Arya was momentarily speechless at Eragon's words. He seemed to recognize the root of her pain. He _knew _exactly what she was feeling and how she was feeling. His discernment both puzzled and relieved her: relieved at the fact that he knew exactly what to say to make her feel consoled. Puzzled at the fact that he _could._ Enduring the sorrow alone would've torn her apart. Companionable silence settled between them, and nothing but the rain-drops against the moonlit-surfaced lake disturbed that.

Minutes lapsed by gradually, the sound of Arya's soft crying lost even in the silent rain. She could not hide her deep grief and her profound gratitude at Eragon's soothing presence. It exceedingly calmed her beyond inconceivable sense. There were no words to describe her feelings, no utterances; she just hoped that the fact that she returned his touch and embrace were display of gratitude enough.

As her bearings and composure returned to her, Arya leant back. Russet brown eyes met emerald. Although still watery, Arya's eyes held a certain gleam, and under the moon's observant gaze, her broken façade was a bittersweet countenance. With unwavering yet gentle gaze, Arya murmured in her melodic cadence and in the absolute pure truth of the Ancient Language, "_Eka elrun ono,_ Eragon." That was what she had needed: his comfort, his words… his touch. Arya could not account for another being who could have alleviated her deepest despairs.

Inclining his head graciously, Eragon responded softly, his eyes never stowing away from hers, "Perhaps it is not my place to say this, but… you should never walk alone with the weight of the world on your shoulders, Arya. It is not your burden to bear. I _do not_ want to see you suffer…"

The soft gentle words washed upon Arya with deep and intense warmth. Uttered in the Ancient Language, his sincerity leaked through the words, their impact practically driving into Arya's heart and mind. His words inevitably embedded in her memory, Arya gave a deep sigh, reveling how it affected her to an unfathomable level. In contrast to her resolve, the rain- which had never stopped pouring down from the heavens- fell stronger. Arya barely felt them, soaking her hair, sliding down her face in a delicate, languid crawl.

Their eye-contact, which had never wavered, suddenly grew more intense. Despite the night's creeping chilliness, profound warmth blossomed within Arya's chest as Eragon's burning gaze never left hers. In her native tongue, she said quietly, "I do not wish for the world to rest on my shoulders Eragon; but in the end, it was a burden I chose to bear. Is it not virtuous for one person to suffer, in the goodness for the other thousand to hope?"

With the patience even she could not withstand, Eragon remained unmoving, the hint of the seemingly ever-present wisdom residing in his eyes and said, "And Alagaesia birthed a thousand others, a countless many to be the world's pillars. No one should do it alone: a lone pillar with an endless ceiling to uphold? Is it not selfish of the others to just let one person do it all?"

Such simple answer, a simple explanation, yet their meaning belied a wise sophistication that was undeniably true. Free of her façades, Arya knew the surprise flitted from her features and into her eyes. She understood. _Absolutely _understood his meaning. Were she of a completely coherent mind, Arya would have registered the obvious fact that Eragon's intelligence far exceeded her initial expectations. He was a puzzle, a difficult quandary that people would never understand. To her surprise, she could comprehend traits of his that were startlingly similar to hers. They were vague comparisons, but when uncovered, the likeness was there.

Arya looked ahead, into the lake infront of them. The surface was disturbed by the raindrops, which still hadn't ceased falling from the skies. Her fingers intertwined and untangled, a sign that Eragon's statements had defeated hers. There was no shame at her loss, but rather, a sense of pride welled up within her at Eragon's judgment. Were she not of a sorrowful disposition, she would have properly smiled. Instead, her lips merely curved, a hint of a smile gracing her delicate features. It was truly difficult to perceive, but it was a sweet reaction that was not missed by Eragon. Without his bidding, Eragon felt his lips correspond with hers, a faint trace of a smile altering his features.

Arya, her eyes observing the lake, finally and quietly responded to his question, "No, I suppose not." At the surface, her words were a mere agreement, but beneath it, she understood Eragon's personality better, a silent realization at the fact that he was completely and utterly _right _for her. He understood her beyond inexplicable words; to an intense and overwhelming level that escaped rational justification. The realization washed upon Arya, a little stronger at every clearer comprehension. If only he knew what he was doing to her; Arya almost sighed.

In contentment and quiet harmony, Eragon and Arya remained in their places. The rain now finally receded from the dark skies; a silent night's chill replaced their presence. Despite her usually formidable resistance to cold weather, Arya involuntarily shivered, goose bumps spreading throughout her skin. Finely attuned to her, Eragon removed a layer of his clothing and intoning the words of the Ancient Language; he dried it and gently placed it around Arya's shoulders.

The process happened at such a great speed that Arya didn't have time to protest. And before she could, the warmth enveloped her perfectly. She gave a little sigh of contentment. Without even forcing a smile, Arya's expression lightened, "Thank you, Eragon," Concern flashed upon her features as she glanced at him with only a thin layer of clothing. Before she could as much utter a word of worry, Eragon smiled faintly, "I insist."

A subtle shift entered his eyes, a hard gleam appearing; indicating that he would be adamant if she so protested against his words. Reluctantly, Arya sighed and shook her head in response. Eragon tilted his head, contentment radiating off him in soft waves.

He placed the underside of his arms on his propped knees, observing the night with her. The rain clouds had almost entirely disappeared, in their absence opening the deeper layer of the skies. Stars as bright as diamonds emerged from the skies, appearing magnificent in their thousand formations. They dotted the night with brilliance; a splendor of beautiful jewels incomparable to any substance on Alageasia. Arya thought they looked wonderful, their warming presence a great addition to the pleasant company of Eragon. Together, they sat under the skies, quiet in contentment and pleasure, cherishing the irrevocable and inexplicably profound companionship they shared. This was what they had just needed. And Arya, in the wonder and sudden stillness of the night, had just realized that he was exactly who she wanted. Who she just _needed. _For the thought of enduring the world without him suddenly weakened her to an unfathomable level. She glanced at him and repeated the words that she had uttered not so long ago and had truly meant; words that came straight from the heart, "I'm glad you were by my side tonight, Eragon."

The remembrance striking in Eragon's features, he smiled, sincerely and without restraint, "And you by, mine."

Arya maintained his gaze for a few seconds before looking away. Not in embarrassment, but in the fact that her emerald eyes would show exactly what she was feeling for him. And she didn't want to, at least, not right now. Not after all that's happened, not after all the sorrows. She simply wanted this moment to be like this. Just the two of them. Just the two of them under the silent stars.

* * *

_A/N: I hope you liked the filler chapter! I was going to prolong the update in order to add Kialandí's part, but I thought I'd delayed LONG enough. xDD So like I said, I started College about 2 weeks ago, so need I say more why I've been busy lately? Anyway, seriously guys (to those who are still there of course- although I feel like I'm probably saying this to an empty room), thanks for the ongoing support. I truly, truly appreciate it. _

_Special note: This chapter is dedicated to my friend, **Forcystus5** who has been absolutely supportive and just really amazing. Without him, I probably wouldn't have gotten round to finishing the chapter, or just round to writing, really. So he needs a massive round of applause.  
*Round of applause*.  
Scratch that actually. He deserves a standing ovation.  
*Stands and claps energetically*. xDD  
_

_Anyhoo, the next chapter should be ahem *cough*magically*cough* written in the next following weeks. If you don't hear from me then, I'm probably too caught up on College stuff. But I will try to finish my story before the 8__th__ of November. If you don't know what's happening on that day, then you seriously need to get off my page NOAAWW. xDD If I somehow can't finish it before then, I'm considering making an ending summary. But eh, I'll see how it goes. And if you're interested I'm always available on PM, so if you have any questions or anything, hit me up with a message. But if not, until the next update! In advance, many, many, MANY thanks for the reviews.  
_

_CJ._


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